Along the Woodford road there comes a noise <br />Of wheels, and Mr. Rounding's neat post-chaise <br />Struggles along, drawn by a pair of bays, <br />With Reverend Mr. Crow and six small boys, <br />Who ever and anon declare their joys <br />With trumping horns and juvenile huzzas, <br />At going home to spend their Christmas days, <br />And changing learning's pains for pleasure's toys. <br />Six weeks elapse, and down the Woodford way <br />A heavy coach drags six more heavy souls, <br />But no glad urchins shout, no trumpets bray, <br />The carriage makes a halt, the gate-bell tolls, <br />And little boys walk in as dull and mum <br />As six new scholars to the Deaf and Dumb!<br /><br />Thomas Hood<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/christmas-holidays/
