'Tis early morn and on the green
The children are at play;
The sunlight falls in sparkling sheen,
Their hearts are blithe and gay:
A shadow flits across the scene--
The hour has come that sadness brings,
The master rings, the master rings,
'Tis books!
'Tis late at eve, and o'er the green
The weary toilers pass;
The shadows fall, the sky's serene,
And dew is on the grass:
A light breaks in upon the scene--
The hour has come that gladness brings,
The Master rings, the Master rings,
'Tis books!