The schoolboys still their morning ramble take To neighboring village school with playing speed,
Loitering with passtime's leisure till they quake,
Oft looking up the wild-geese droves to heed,
Watching the letters which their journeys make;
Or plucking haws on which their fieldfares feed,
And hips and sloes; and on each shallow lake Making glib slides, where they like shadows go Till some fresh passtimes in their minds awake.
Then off they start anew and hasty blow Their numbed and clumpsing fingers till they glow;
Then races with their shadows wildly run That stride huge giants o'er the shining snow In the pale splendour of the winter sun.
