Childhood

Childhood, sweet and sunny childhood,
  With its careless, thoughtless air,
  Like the verdant, tangled wildwood,
  Wants the training hand of care.
  See it springing all around us -
  Glad to know, and quick to learn;
  Asking questions that confound us;
  Teaching lessons in its turn.
  Who loves not its joyous revel,
 Leaping lightly on the lawn,
 Up the knoll, along the level,
 Free and graceful as a fawn?
 Let it revel; it is nature
 Giving to the little dears
 Strength of limb, and healthful features,
 For the toil of coming years.
 He who checks a child with terror,
 Stops its play, and stills its song,
 Not alone commits an error,
 But a great and moral wrong.
 Give it play, and never fear it -
 Active life is no defect;
 Never, never break its spirit -
 Curb it only to direct.
 Would you dam the flowing river,
 Thinking it would cease to flow?
 Onward it must go forever -
 Better teach it where to go.
 Childhood is a fountain welling,
 Trace its channel in the sand,
 And its currents, spreading, swelling,
 Will revive the withered land.
 Childhood is the vernal season;
 Trim and train the tender shoot;
 Love is to the coming reason,
 As the blossom to the fruit.
 Tender twigs are bent and folded -
 Art to nature beauty lends;
 Childhood easily is moulded;
 Manhood breaks, but seldom bends.