The swing (John Liptrot Hatton)
- Editor: James Gibb (submitted 2020-02-13). Score information: A4, 8 pages, 114 kB Copyright: CPDL
- Edition notes:
Original text and translations
Under the lofty trees,
Where birds in summer sing,
In the cool shade, by green leaves made,
There hangs the schoolboy's swing.
Motionless in the air,
Down to the dusty ground,
Its ropes hang long, from branches strong,
Till playmates gather round!
Moving slowly, slowly,
When merry sports begin,
'Twill faster go, at every blow,
As 'twere a race to win!
Faster, higher, higher,
The children laugh and shout;
The swing beats time, in mystic chime,
To all their noisy rout!
Slowly, slower, slower,
As the blows retreat,
The swing dies out, at every shout,
Its pulses cease to beat!