Come to me, O ye children!

来吧，上这儿来吧，孩子们！

For I hear you at your play,

我听见你们嬉笑游玩，

And the questions that perplexed me

那些叫我烦恼的问题

Have vanished quite away.

就都一下子烟消云散。

Ye open the eastern windows,

你们把东边窗户打开，

That look towards the sun,

初升的太阳正在窗外，

Where thoughts are singing swallows

那儿，思绪像呢喃的燕子，

And the brooks of morning run.

像清晨的溪水，流得欢快。

In your hearts are the birds and the sunshine,

你们心里有鸟儿和阳光，

In your thoughts the brooklet's flow,

你们思想里有小溪流过；

But in mine is the wind of Autumn

我这儿却只有秋天的凄风

And the first fall of the snow.

和冬天第一次雪花飘落。

Ah! what would the world be to us

啊！若是没有了孩子，

If the children were no more?

那还算得个什么世界？

We should dread the desert behind us

我们会惧怕身后的荒凉

Worse than the dark before.

甚于惧怕眼前的黑夜。

What the leaves are to the forest,

好比嫩绿的树叶在林间，

With light and air for food,

把阳光空气当作主食，

Ere their sweet and tender juices

叶片中甜美清新的汁液

Have been hardened into wood,—

还不曾化为坚硬的木质，——

That to the world are children;

孩子在世间也是这般，

Through them it feels the glow

凭着他们，世人才感到

Of a brighter and sunnier climate

天气比树干所接触的更好，

Than reaches the trunks below.

阳光也更明亮地照耀。

Come to me, O ye children!

来吧，上这儿来吧，孩子们！

And whisper in my ear

在我耳边悄悄告诉我：

What the birds and the winds are singing

你们晴朗温和的天气里，

In your sunny atmosphere.

鸟儿和风儿在唱些什么。

For what are all our contrivings,

算得了什么，书上的学问？

And the wisdom of our books,

算得了什么，我们的事业？

When compared with your caresses,

哪里比得上你们的爱抚

And the gladness of your looks?

和你们脸上甜蜜的笑靥？

Ye are better than all the ballads

历来说说唱唱的歌谣

That ever were sung or said;

没有哪一首比得上你们；

For ye are living poems,

只有你们是活的诗篇，

And all the rest are dead.

别的诗都是死气沉沉。