Guest poem submitted by Vinod Krishna :
(Poem #1663) The Echoing Green
The sun does 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 bells' 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 mother Many sisters and brothers, Like birds in their nest, Are ready for rest; And sport no more seen On the darkening green.
(1757-1827) I noticed that the Minstrels archive does not have this poem by William Blake. This is a poem that was in one of my high school English textbooks in India. There is a certain melancholy about this poem, which I remember from the time I first read it. I thought it would be a nice addition to the collection of Blake's poems on Minstrels. Vinod.