The School Boy by William Blake

I love to rise in a summer morn,

When the birds sing on every tree;

The distant huntsman winds his horn,

And the sky-lark sings with me

O! what sweet company

But to go to school in a summer morn,

O! it drives all joy away;

Under a cruel eye outworn

The little ones spend the day,

In sighing and dismay

Ah! then at times I drooping sit,

And spend many an anxious hour,

Nor in my book can I take delight,

Nor sit in learnings bower,

Worn thro' with the dreary shower

How can the bird that is born for joy,

Sit in a cage and sing

How can a child when fears annoy

But droop his tender wing

And forget his youthful spring

O! father & mother if buds are nip'd,

And blossoms blown away,

And if the tender plants are strip'd

Of their joy in the springing day,

By sorrow and care's dismay

How shall the summer arise in joy

Or the summer fruits appear

Or how shall we gather what griefs destroy

Or bless the mellowing year

When the blasts of winter appear