Though the anguish and the smart
Go unto his little heart.”
It was at this point that some of the trees in the Child’s Garden put forth new shoots and began to grow into their natural shapes.
But there was no revolt against wholesome discipline; traditional virtues were still honoured in verse, cleanliness as well as courage:
“Come, my little Robert near—
Fie! what filthy hands are here—
Who that ere could understand
The rare structure of a hand,
With its branching fingers fine,
Work itself of hands divine,