The Echoing Green

The Sun does arise,
And make happy the skies;
The merry bells ring
To welcome the Spring.

The sky-lark and thrush,
The birds of the bush,
Sing louder around
To the bells’ cheerful sound;

While our sport 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,
Their naps in the shade
On the hay-makers laid.

Then down comes the sun,
And life’s little done,
And we all run to play
By the echoing Green.

• William Blake