Classic Poem

A T Stingo Fair , the First of May ,
All ages of the Rabble play.
The Children at an orange throw,
But never strike the victor's blow.
In hats of straw, and ribbons blue,
The Girls have — something else to do .
The child that is unborn can tell,
That without book they do it well;
Good-humour is on every face;
An English Mob 's a happy race.
But, when the morning shines again,
Mute is the heart-enlivening strain;
The face of Mirth is dull with care,
And Love is chang'd into Despair.
An emblem are these Girls and Boys —
A Fair like this — are human joys.