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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=519124" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Of Three Children</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">OF THREE CHILDREN CHOOSING<br>A CHAPLET OF VERSE</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You and I and Burd so blithe—<br>Burd so blithe, and you, and I—</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Mower he would whet his scythe<br>Before the dew was dry. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And he woke soon, but we woke soon<br>And drew the nursery blind,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All wondering at the waning moon<br>With the small June roses twined:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Low in her cradle swung the moon<br>With an elfin dawn behind. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">In whispers, while our elders slept,<br>We knelt and said our prayers,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And dress'd us and on tiptoe crept<br>Adown the creaking stairs. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The world's possessors lay abed,<br>And all the world was ours—</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Nay, nay, but hark! the Mower's tread!<br>And we must save the flowers!' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Mower knew not rest nor haste—<br>That old unweary man:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But we were young. We paused and raced<br>And gather'd while we ran. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">O youth is careless, youth is fleet,<br>With heart and wing of bird!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The lark flew up beneath our feet,<br>To his copse the pheasant whirr'd; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The cattle from their darkling lairs<br>Heaved up and stretch'd themselves;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Almost they trod at unawares<br>Upon the busy elves </div><div style="margin:10px 0">That dropp'd their spools of gossamer,<br>To dangle and to dry,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And scurried home to the hollow fir<br>Where the white owl winks an eye. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nor you, nor I, nor Burd so blithe<br>Had driven them in this haste;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But the old, old man, so lean and lithe,<br>That afar behind us paced;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So lean and lithe, with shoulder'd scythe,<br>And a whetstone at his waist. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Within the gate, in a grassy round<br>Whence they had earliest flown,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He upside-down'd his scythe, and ground<br>Its edge with careful hone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But we heeded not, if we heard, the sound,<br>For the world was ours alone;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The world was ours!—and with a bound<br>The conquering Sun upshone! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And while as from his level ray<br>We stood our eyes to screen.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The world was not as yesterday<br>Our homelier world had been—</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So grey and golden-green it lay<br>All in his quiet sheen,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That wove the gold into the grey,<br>The grey into the green.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sure never hand of Puck, nor wand<br>Of Mab the fairies' queen,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nor prince nor peer of fairyland<br>Had power to weave that wide riband<br>Of the grey, the gold, the green. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But the Gods of Greece had been before<br>And walked our meads along,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The great authentic Gods of yore<br>That haunt the earth from shore to shore<br>Trailing their robes of song. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And where a sandall'd foot had brush'd,<br>And where a scarfed hem,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The flowers awoke from sleep and rush'd<br>Like children after them. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Pell-mell they poured by vale and stream,<br>By lawn and steepy brae—</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'O children, children! while you dream,<br>Your flowers run all away!' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But afar and abed and sleepily<br>The children heard us call;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And Burd so blithe and you and I<br>Must be gatherers for all. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The meadow-sweet beside the hedge,<br>The dog-rose and the vetch,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The sworded iris 'mid the sedge,<br>The mallow by the ditch— </div><div style="margin:10px 0">With these, and by the wimpling burn,<br>Where the midges danced in reels,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With the watermint and the lady fern<br>We brimm'd out wicker creels: </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Till, all so heavily they weigh'd,<br>On a bank we flung us down,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Shook out our treasures 'neath the shade<br>And wove this Triple Crown. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Flower after flower—for some there were<br>The noonday heats had dried,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And some were dear yet could not bear<br>A lovelier cheek beside,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And some were perfect past compare—<br>Ah, darlings! what a world of care<br>It cost us to decide! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Natheless we sang in sweet accord,<br>Each bending o'er her brede—</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'O there be flowers in Oxenford,<br>And flowers be north of Tweed,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And flowers there be on earthly sward<br>That owe no mortal seed!' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And these, the brightest that we wove,<br>Were Innocence and Truth,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And holy Peace and angel Love,<br>Glad Hope and gentle Ruth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah, bind them fast with triple twine<br>Of Memory, the wild woodbine<br>That still, being human, stays divine,<br>And alone is age's youth!... </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But hark! but look! the warning rook<br>Wings home in level flight;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The children tired with play and book<br>Have kiss'd and call'd Good-night! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah, sisters, look! What fields be these<br>That lie so sad and shorn?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What hand has cut our coppices,<br>And thro' the trimm'd, the ruin'd, trees<br>Lets wail a wind forlorn? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Tis Time, 'tis Time has done this crime<br>And laid our meadows waste—</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The bent unwearied tyrant Time,<br>That knows nor rest nor haste. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet courage, children; homeward bring<br>Your hearts, your garlands high;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For we have dared to do a thing<br>That shall his worst defy. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">We cannot nail the dial's hand;<br>We cannot bind the sun</div><div style="margin:10px 0">By Gibeon to stay and stand,<br>Or the moon o'er Ajalon; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">We cannot blunt th' abhorred shears,<br>Nor shift the skeins of Fate,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nor say unto the posting years<br>'Ye shall not desolate.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">We cannot cage the lion's rage,<br>Nor teach the turtle-dove</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Beside what well his moan to tell<br>Or to haunt one only grove;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But the lion's brood will range for food<br>As the fledged bird will rove. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And east and west we three may wend—<br>Yet we a wreath have wound</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For us shall wind withouten end<br>The wide, wide world around: </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Be it east or west, and ne'er so far,<br>In east or west shall peep no star,<br>No blossom break from ground,<br>But minds us of the wreath we wove<br>Of innocence and holy love<br>That in the meads we found,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And handsell'd from the Mower's scythe,<br>And bound with memory's living withe—<br>You and I and Burd so blithe—<br>Three maidens on a mound:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And all of happiness was ours<br>Shall find remembrance 'mid the flowers,<br>Shall take revival from the flowers<br>And by the flowers be crown'd.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Sir+Arthur+Quiller-Couch">Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=519124" data-title="Of Three Children de Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch" data-description="OF THREE CHILDREN CHOOSING
A CHAPLET OF VERSE

You and I and Burd so blithe—
Burd so blithe, and you, and I—

The Mower he would whet his scythe
Before the dew was dry. 

And he woke soon, but we woke soon
And drew the nursery blind,

All wond..."></div>
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