Wheel as it wheels for us, children, to-day,

Wheel and keep roaring and foaming for ever,

Long after all of the boys are away.

Home from the Indies, and home from the ocean,

Heroes and soldiers we all shall come home;

Still we shall find the old mill-wheel in motion,

Turning and churning that river to foam.

You with the bean that I gave when we quarrelled,

I with your marble of Saturday last,

Honoured and old and all gaily apparelled,

Here we shall meet and remember the past.

XXVII

GOOD AND BAD CHILDREN

Children, you are very little,

Children

And your bones are very brittle;

If you would grow great and stately,

You must try to walk sedately.

You must still be bright and quiet,

And content with simple diet;

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