Children
Come to me, O ye children!For I hear you at your play,And the questions that perplexed meHave vanished quite away.
Ye open the eastern windows,That look towards the sun,Where thoughts are singing swallowsAnd 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 AutumnAnd the first fall of the snow.
Ah! what would the world be to usIf the children were no more?We should dread the desert behind usWorse than the dark before.
What the leaves are to the forest,With light and air for food,Ere their sweet and tender juicesHave been hardened into wood,--
That to the world are children;Through them it feels the glowOf a brighter and sunnier climateThan reaches the trunks below.
Come to me, O ye children!And whisper in my earWhat the birds and the winds are singingIn 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 balladsThat ever were sung or said;For ye are living poems,And all the rest are dead.
Words in this poem
- sunshine n.
- The light of the sun, or the place where it shines; the direct rays of the sun, the place where they fall, or the warmth and light which they give.
- sunny a.
- Of or pertaining to the sun; proceeding from, or resembling the sun; hence, shining; bright; brilliant; radiant.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Children is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Complete Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Project Gutenberg ebook #1365; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Children, in The Complete Poetical Works (1839–1882), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #1365, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/longfellow-poems/children.html, id L17635.
Form and metre
Children is 36 lines in 9 stanzas of 4 lines each. The metre is common measure, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 82%). 94% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 7.5 syllables. 13 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 31% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in common measure.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 -A-A children · playA · me · awayA
- 2 -A-A windows · sunA · swallows · runA
- 3 -A-A sunshine · flowA · autumn · snowA
- 4 ABAB usA · moreB · usA · beforeB
- 6 -A-A children · glowA · climate · belowA
- 7 -A-A children · earA · singing · atmosphereA
- 8 -A-A contrivings · booksA · caresses · looksA
- 9 -A-A ballads · saidA · poems · deadA
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against common measure. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Come to me, O ye children! | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| For I hear you at your play, | 7 | ······· |
| And the questions that perplexed me | 9 | ··/˘·˘/˘· |
| Have vanished quite away. | 6 | ·/˘·˘/ |
| Ye open the eastern windows, | 8 | ·/˘·/˘/˘ |
| That look towards the sun, | 6 | ······ |
| Where thoughts are singing swallows | 7 | ···/˘/˘ |
| And the brooks of morning run. | 7 | ····/˘· |
| In your hearts are the birds and the sunshine, | 10 | ········/· |
| In your thoughts the brooklet's flow, | 7 | ······· |
| But in mine is the wind of Autumn | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| And the first fall of the snow. | 7 | ······· |
| Ah! what would the world be to us | 8 | ········ |
| If the children were no more? | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| We should dread the desert behind us | 9 | ····/˘··· |
| Worse than the dark before. | 6 | ······ |
| What the leaves are to the forest, | 8 | ······/˘ |
| With light and air for food, | 6 | ······ |
| Ere their sweet and tender juices | 8 | ····/˘/˘ |
| Have been hardened into wood,-- | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| That to the world are children; | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| Through them it feels the glow | 6 | ······ |
| Of a brighter and sunnier climate | 9 | ··/˘···/˘ |
| Than reaches the trunks below. | 7 | ·/˘···· |
| Come to me, O ye children! | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| And whisper in my ear | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| What the birds and the winds are singing | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| In your sunny atmosphere. | 7 | ··/˘/˘· |
| For what are all our contrivings, | 9 | ····/˘··· |
| And the wisdom of our books, | 8 | ··/˘·/˘· |
| When compared with your caresses, | 9 | ·˘/˘··˘/˘ |
| And the gladness of your looks? | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| Ye are better than all the ballads | 9 | ··/˘···/˘ |
| That ever were sung or said; | 7 | ·/˘···· |
| For ye are living poems, | 7 | ···/˘/˘ |
| And all the rest are dead. | 6 | ······ |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.