The School Boys

I love to rise in a summer morn,
When the birds sing on every tree;
The distant huntsman winds his horn,
And the sky-lark sings with me.
O! what sweet company.

But to go to school in a summer morn,
O! it drives all joy away;
Under a cruel eye outworn.
The little ones spend the day,
In sighing and dismay.

It's a good job the boys haven't read William Blake yet: they don't know they're meant to be sighing and dismayed.

Walked with them this morning on my way to the train station, and they were on fine form, chattering away to each other. I must find out why Matt had his hood up on such a nice day. It's probably something to do with Pokemon.