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 The shore was merry with movement, The air tingled with life, But never a hurt or a tumble came, And never a sound of strife. Nothing was there to harm them; Their world was gentle as they; The Sun, the Wind, and the shining Sea, Kind and loving, and full of glee, Were only there to play. Fresh as the early morning, The sight and strength of them was, And the sound of them sweet as a sweet Spring rain Upon young growing grass. The Sun caught never an unkind look, The bright air never a sigh, But all was busy frolic, and laughter, Rapture and revelry.

Now, when the Sun stood near his noon, Valleyward, up the creek Turning in bands together, Somewhat they seem’d to seek. With bubble and babble and laughter, The clear creek prattled along; With babble and bubbling laughter, The Little-Ones echo’d its song, As in and out of its shining streams They flash’d like a bevy of bright white beams. —They climbed on the rocks, and kiss’d the kind mosses, That comfort every crack; To the tall, tall Fern on the Bank they nodded, And the Kowhai over the track;