The Poor School Boy  Antonio Mancini

from The School Boy 

by William Blake

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.