IN SCHOOL
Quietly the class is writing,
boys bent over writing-books,
diligent their supple bodies and intent their faces' looks,
with the girls slate-pencils grating.
Annie must needs turn around towards her mate,
whispers just a moment with Charlotte:
- Say, please will you look at my loose knot,
tie it tighter round my plait?
Carefully Charlotte's hands
feel the fine blond hair in front of her;
with a look at me, who just winks at her,
she ties firmly Annie's silk, blue ribbons.
And there go the ticking slate-pencils again,
in the little girls' hands, moving restlessly,
Then a small joke makes them chuckle stealthily,
make their eyes and cheeks live with fun again.
Wee Will wants to give a pear to Luke;
now he taps, supposing that I do not see,
Lucas, his big comrade, on the knee,
with his little clutches, after some shy looks.
So, by just a laugh, a care-free song,
by a word, quite gently spoken,
is the weighty poise of drab times broken.
Ah! Did I not go to school myself, when I was young?
