They have a few little hours
To study the world-
Its lovely absence of clouds,
Or the thunderbolts hurled
By hidden powers-
All the soft shapes of the vales
And the trees of the north
They dream of a minute, no longer,
No longer-then forth
Ere the year fails
To cities where carnival glows
Or the furnace is bright.
So is measured or leisured
According as teachers dispose
Their cosmic delight.