The voice of children is heard on the green,
And laughing is heard on the hill;
When my heart is at rest within my breast,
And everything else is still.
“Now, come home, my children, the sun is down,
And the dews of night fall fast;
Come, leave off play, and let us away,
Till the morning appears in the east.”
No, no, let us play, for it is yet day—
And we cannot go to sleep;
Besides, in the sky, the little birds fly,
And the hills are all covered with sheep.
“Well, well, go and play till the light fades away,
And then go home to rest.”
The little ones leaped, and shouted, and laughed,
And all the hills echoed for joy.