Holy Thursday
Is this a holy thing to see / In a rich and fruitful land, --
When the voices of children are heard on the green,
And laughing is heard on the hill,
My heart is at rest within my breast,
And everything else is still.
Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down,
And the dews of night arise;
Come, come, leave off play, and let us away,
Till the morning appears in the skies.
No, no, let us play, for it is yet day,
And we cannot go to sleep;
Besides, in the sky the little birds fly,
And the hills are all covered with sheep.
Well, well, go and play till the light fades away,
And then go home to bed.
The little ones leaped, and shouted, and laughed,
And all the hills echoed.
Is this a holy thing to see / In a rich and fruitful land, --
There is a smile of love, / And there is a smile of deceit,
1.1 "What is the price of Experience? do men buy it for a song? / 1.2 Or wisdom for a dance in the street? No, it is bought with the price
Never seek to tell thy love, / Love that never told can be;