The Gambols of Children

Down the dimpled greensward dancing,   Bursts a flaxen-headed bevy,— Bud-lipt boys and girls advancing,   Love’s irregular little levy. Rows of liquid eyes in laughter,   How they glimmer, how they quiver! Sparkling one another after,   Like bright ripples on a river. Tipsy band of rubious faces,   Flushed with Joy’s ethereal spirit, Make your mocks and sly grimaces   At Love’s self, and do not fear it.