Round the thickets, when anon
They with silly thorn-pricked noses bleated back into the sun.
But my childish heart beat stronger
Than those thickets dared to grow:
I could pierce them! I could longer
Travel on, methought, than so!
Sheep for sheep-paths! braver children climb and creep where they would go.
On a day, such pastime keeping,
With a fawn’s heart debonair,
Under-crawling, overleaping