Page:Poems and lyrics of the joy of earth.djvu/121

Rh

upon an early walk to spy A troop of children through an orchard gate:
 * The boughs hung low, the grass was high;
 * They had but to lift hands or wait

For fruits to fill them; fruits were all their sky.

They shouted, running on from tree to tree, And played the game the wind plays, on and round.
 * 'Twas visible invisible glee
 * Pursuing; and a fountain's sound

Of laughter spouted, pattering fresh on me.