THE little Goose-girl came singing Along the fields, “Sweet May, oh! the long sweet day.” That was her song, Bringing about her, floating about In and out through the long fair tresses Of her hair; oh! a thousand thousand idlenesses, Spreading away on May’s breath everywhere “Idleness, sweet idleness.” But this was a time, Two thousand and ninety-nine, When, singing of idleness even in Spring, Or drinking wind-wine, Or looking up into the blue heaven Was counted a crime. A time, harsh, not sublime, One terrible sort of school- Hour all the year through, When everyone had to do something, and do it by rule. Why, even the babies could calculate Two and two at the least, mentally, without a slate, Each calling itself an aggregate Of molecules— It was always school—schools, All over the world as far as the sky could cover It—dry land and sea. High Priests said, “Let matter be Z, Thoroughly calculated and tried To work our problems with, before all eyes— Anything beside that might prove a dangerous guide: X’s and Y’s, Unknown quantities, We hesitate not, at once to designate Fit only, now and for ever to be laid aside.” So, you see Everything was made as plain as could be, Not the ghost of a doubt even left to roam about free. Everybody’s concern Being just to learn, learn, learn, In one way—but only in one way. Where then did the little Goose-girl come from that day? I don’t know. Though Isn’t there hard by A place, tender and sunny, One can feel slid between Our seen and unseen, And whose shadows we trace on the Earth’s face Now and then dimly?—Well, she Was as ignorant as she could ignorant be. The world wasn’t school to her Who came singing “Sweet Idleness, sweet Idleness” up to the very feet Of the Professors’ chairs, And of the thousand thousand pupils sitting round upon theirs; Who, up all sprang, At the sound of the words she sang With “No, no, no, no, no, There are no sweets in May, None in the weary day; What foolish thing is this, singing of idleness in spring?” “Oh! sunny spring,” Still sang the little Goose-girl. Wondering As she was passing— And suddenly stay’d for a moment basking In the broad light, with wide eyes asking What “nay” could mean to the soft warm day. And as she stay’d There stray’d out from her May breaths, wandering all the school over.