They have a few little hours <br />To study the world— <br />Its lovely absence of clouds, <br />Or the thunderbolts hurled <br />By hidden powers— <br />All the soft shapes of the vales <br />And the trees of the north <br />They dream of a minute, no longer, <br />No longer—then forth <br />Ere the year fails <br />To cities where carnival glows <br />Or the furnace is bright. <br />So is measured or leisured <br />According as teachers dispose <br />Their cosmic delight.<br /><br />Lesbia Harford<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/learning-geography/
