While for music came the play
Of the pied frogs’ orchestra;
And, to light the noisy choir,
Lit the fly his lamps of fire.
I was monarch; pomp and joy
Waited on the barefoot boy!
Cheerily, then, my little man,
Live and laugh, as boyhood can!
Though the flinty slopes be hard,
Stubble-speared the new-mown sward,