Children Poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


Rating: 3.2

Come to me, O ye children!
For I hear you at your play,
And the questions that perplexed me
Have vanished quite away.

Ye open the eastern windows,
That look towards the sun,
Where thoughts are singing swallows
And the brooks of morning run.

In your hearts are the birds and the sunshine,
In your thoughts the brooklet's flow,
But in mine is the wind of Autumn
And the first fall of the snow.

Ah! what would the world be to us
If the children were no more?
We should dread the desert behind us
Worse than the dark before.

What the leaves are to the forest,
With light and air for food,
Ere their sweet and tender juices
Have been hardened into wood, --

That to the world are children;
Through them it feels the glow
Of a brighter and sunnier climate
Than reaches the trunks below.

Come to me, O ye children!
And whisper in my ear
What the birds and the winds are singing
In your sunny atmosphere.

For what are all our contrivings,
And the wisdom of our books,
When compared with your caresses,
And the gladness of your looks?

Ye are better than all the ballads
That ever were sung or said;
For ye are living poems,
And all the rest are dead.

Mohammad Muzzammil 20 April 2011

one of the best poems regarding children in a beautiful words along with musical tone.

23 11 Reply
Ramesh T A 20 April 2010

Bright side of Nature denotes happiness of children and the dull part of it is grown up old men! Without children where is cheers as sunny as Nature in the world?

19 9 Reply
Adam Yaklin 20 April 2010

Good comparison. Easy enough to catch, but still made you think.

15 13 Reply
Carlos Echeverria 20 April 2012

New parents often say that having a child puts things in perspective...something Longfellow echoes in this poem. To hazard an answer to Mr. Pruchnicki's query: Longfellow's 'style and form' is so memorable simply because of the classic poetic techniques he employs; his rhyme and meter are used with precision and the music they create are like a hit top 40 single which keeps playing in our heads.

19 8 Reply
Adam Yaklin 20 April 2010

In response to Kevin Straw. The dark before us is the unknown. While the desert behind us is before we have rooted as trees and sprouted our children/leaves. At least I think, thats how I took it.

17 9 Reply
Robert_Frost_Enjoyer420 21 December 2021

L Poem #FrostBetter

0 0 Reply
fredbert 21 December 2021

creepy title but chile poem.... i didn't read it

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Donald R Wolff JR 19 October 2020

This is poetry. The way poetry is meant to be written.

0 0 Reply
Ken Morgan 06 January 2018

Lovely words from the father of three motherless children. Goes so well with 'The Children's Hour' by the same author

1 5 Reply
Tim Gove 24 December 2017

I can't remember reading poems EVER that have elicited such a brilliant endorphin rush as Children and Christmas Bells. Merry Christmas From me, Darien IL

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