THE ECHOING GREEN (William Blake) Poem

THE ECHOING GREEN

     (William Blake)

The sun doth arise
And make happy the skies,
The merry bells ring
To welcome the spring
The skylark and thrush
The birds of the bush
Sing louder around
To the bell’s cheerful sound,
While our sports shall be seen
On the Echoing Green.


Old john with white hair
Does laugh away care,
Sitting under the oak
Among the old folk.
They laugh at our play,
And soon they all say;
Such, such were the joys
When we all girls and boys.
In our youth time were seen
On the Echoing Green.

Till the little ones, weary,
No more can be merry;
The sun does descend,
And our sports have an end.
Round the laps of their mothers
Many sisters and brothers,
Like birds in their nest,
And ready for rest,
And sport no more seen
On the darkening Green.