I like to watch the children play, upon a wintry, snowy day; like
little elves they run about, and leap and slide, and laugh and shout.
This side of heaven can there be such pure and unmixed ecstacy? I lean
upon ye rustic stile, and watch the children with a smile, and think
upon a vanished day, when I, as joyous, used to play, when all the
world seemed young and bright, and every hour had its delight; and, as
I brush away a tear, a snowball hits me in the ear.