English poem
Hugo’S “Child At Play”
by Eugene Field
A child was singing at his play-- I heard the song, and paused to hear; His mother moaning, groaning lay, And, lo! a spectre stood anear!
The child shook sunlight from his hair, And carolled gayly all day long-- Aye, with that spectre gloating there, The innocent made mirth and song!
How like to harvest fruit wert thou, O sorrow, in that dismal room-- God ladeth not the tender bough Save with the joy of bud and bloom!