Or weave the smiling wreath of flowers;
And sport away the light-wing’d hours.
Soon we’ll run the agile race;
Soon, dear playmates, we’ll embrace;—
Through the wheat-field or the grove,
We’ll hand in hand delighted rove;
Or, beneath some spreading oak,
Ponder the instructive book;
Or view the ships that swiftly glide,
Floating on the peaceful tide;