The Echoing Green

What's more, satisfy the skies.

The happy chimes ring

To respect the spring.

The skylark and thrush,

The flying creatures of the hedge,

Sing more intense around,

To the ringers' bright stable,

While our games will be seen

On the reverberating green.Old John with white hair

Laughs away consideration,

Sitting under the oak,

Among the old society.

They chuckle at our play,

What's more, soon they all state:

'Such, such were the delights

When we as a whole, young ladies and young men,

In our childhood time were seen

On the reverberating green.'Till the little ones exhausted

No more can be joyful;

The sun descends,

What's more, our games have an end.

Round the laps of their mom

Numerous sisters and siblings,

Like winged animals in their home,

Are prepared for rest;

What's more, sport no more observed

On the obscuring green.