1He could not die when trees were green, 2 For he loved the time too well.
3His little hands, when flowers were seen,
4 Were held for the bluebell,
5 As he was carried o'er the green.
6His eye glanced at the white-nosed bee;
7 He knew those children of the spring:
8When he was well and on the lea
9 He held one in his hands to sing,
10 Which filled his heart with glee.
11Infants, the children of the spring!
12 How can an infant die
13When butterflies are on the wing,
14 Green grass, and such a sky?
15 How can they die at spring?
16He held his hands for daisies white,
17 And then for violets blue,
18And took them all to bed at night
19 That in the green fields grew,
20 As childhood's sweet delight.
21And then he shut his little eyes,
22 And flowers would notice not;
23Birds' nests and eggs caused no surprise,
24 He now no blossoms got;
25 They met with plaintive sighs.
26When winter came and blasts did sigh,
27 And bare were plain and tree,
28As he for ease in bed did lie
29 His soul seemed with the free,
30 He died so quietly.
....................................................................................................John Clare
