The Bookshelf

When the voices of children are heard on the green

And laughing is heard on the hill,

My heart is at rest within my breast

And everything else is still

Then come home my children the sun is gone down

And the dews of night arise

Come come leave off play, and let us away

Till the morning appears in the skies

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 coverd with sheep

Well well go & play till the light fades away

And then go home to bed

The little ones leaped & shouted & laugh'd

And all the hills ecchoed