For the little faces round his hearth are friends enow for him,
If he seek others, it is for sake of these, and less for his own pleasure.
What companionship so sweet, yea, who can teach so well
As these pure budding intellects, and bright unsullied hearts?
What voice so musical as theirs, what visions of elegance so comely,
What thoughts and hopes and holy prayers, can others cause like these?
If ye count society for pastime,—what happier recreation than a nurseling,
Its winning ways, its prattling tongue, its innocence and mirth?
If ye count society for good,—how fair a field is here,
To guide these souls to God, and multiply thyself for heaven!