When I walked forth upon the glittering grass,
And wept, I knew not why; until there rose
From the near school-room voices, that, alas! 25
Were but one echo from a world of woes—
The harsh and grating strife of tyrants and of foes.
And then I clasped my hands and looked around—
But none was near to mock my streaming eyes,
Which poured their warm drops on the sunny ground—
So without shame I spake:—‘I will be wise, 31
And just, and free, and mild, if in me lies