City Children.

City Children.
528.1

Palo towers are you that scarce have known the sun!
Your little faces like sad blossoms seem
Shut In some room, there helplessly to dream
Of distant glens where through glad rivers run.
And winds at evening whisper. Daylight done.
You miss the tranquil moon’s unfettered beam,
The wide, unsheltered earth, the star- light gleam,
All the old beauty meant for every one.
The clamor of the city streets you hear,
Not the rich silence of the April glade:
The sun-swopt spaces which the good God made
You do not know: white mornings keen and clear
Are not your portion through the golden year,
O little flowers that blossom but to fade!
-Charles Hanson Towne .