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Mary Howitt

Little Children

Sporting through the forest wide;

Playing by the waterside;

Wandering o'er the heathy fells;

Down within the woodland dells;

All among the mountains wild,

Dwelleth many a little child!

In the baron's hall of pride;

By the poor man's dull fireside:

'Mid the mighty, 'mid the mean,

Little children may be seen,

Like the flowers that spring up fair.

Bright and countless everywhere!

In the far isles of the main;

In the desert's lone domain;

In the savage mountain-glen,

'Mong the tribes of swarthy men;

Whereso'er the sun hath shone

On a league of people'd ground,

Little children may be found!

Blessings on them! they in me

Move a kindly sympathy,

With their wishes, hopes, and fears;

With their laughter and their tears;

With their wonder so intense,

And their small experience!

Little children, not alone

On the wide earth are ye known,

'Mid its labours and its cares,

'Mid its sufferings and its snares;

Free from sorrow, free from strife,

In the world of love and life,

Where no sinful thing hath trod—

In the presence of your God,

Spotless, blameless, glorified—

Little children, ye abide!