John Clare - The Dying Child lyrics

He could not die when trees were green For he loved the time too well His little hands, when flowers were seen Were held for the bluebell As he was carried o'er the green His eye glanced at the white-nosed bee He knew those children of the spring When he was well and on the lea He held one in his hands to sing Which filled his heart with glee Infants, the children of the spring! How can an infant die When bu*terflies are on the wing Green gra**, and such a sky? How can they die at spring? He held his hands for daisies whit And then for violets blue And took them all to bed at night That in the green fields grew As childhood's sweet delight And then he shut his little eyes And flowers would notice not Birds' nests and eggs caused no surprise He now no blossoms got They met with plaintive sighs When winter came and blasts did sigh And bare were plain and tree As he for ease in bed did lie His soul seemed with the free He died so quietly