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prudence.
Is there more than work in living?
Yes; a child must go to school,
And to meeting every Sunday;
Not a heathen be, or fool.
Yes; a child must go to school,
And to meeting every Sunday;
Not a heathen be, or fool.
Something more has haunted Prudence
In the song of bird and bee,
In the low wind's dreamy whisper
Through the light-leaved poplar-tree.
In the song of bird and bee,
In the low wind's dreamy whisper
Through the light-leaved poplar-tree.
Something lingers, bends above her,
Leaning at the mossy well;
Some sweet murmur from the meadows;
On the air some gentle spell.
Leaning at the mossy well;
Some sweet murmur from the meadows;
On the air some gentle spell.
But she will not stop to listen:—
Maybe there are witches yet!
So she runs away from beauty;
Tries its presence to forget.
Maybe there are witches yet!
So she runs away from beauty;
Tries its presence to forget.
T is the way her mother taught her;
Prudence is not much to blame.
Work is good for child or woman;
Childhood's jailer,—'tis a shame!
Prudence is not much to blame.
Work is good for child or woman;
Childhood's jailer,—'tis a shame!
