Over the dripping roofs and sunk snow-barrows, <br />The bells are ringing loud and strangely near, <br />The shout of children dins upon mine ear <br />Shrilly, and like a flight of silvery arrows <br />Showers the sweet gossip of the British sparrows, <br />Gathered in noisy knots of one or two, <br />To joke and chatter just as mortals do <br />Over the days long tale of joys and sorrows; <br /> <br />Talk before bed-time of bold deeds together, <br />Of thefts and fights, of hard-times and the weather, <br />Till sleep disarm them, to each little brain <br />Bringing tucked wings and many a blissful dream, <br />Visions of wind and sun, of field and stream, <br />And busy barn-yards with their scattered grain.<br /><br />Archibald Lampman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/march-31/
