John Kenyon - Childhood - I lyrics

TO--- I judge not hardly childhood's giddy glee; For I remember when my mother died, Half-wondering at that age what d**h might be, How few the tears I shed. And when they hied To shape her garden-grave (use,—sanctified Among the dwellers of our tropic isle) Where tamarind and orange, side by side, Wove brightest bower, I too was there the while; If moist-eyed 'mid the sad, yet curious more Than sorrowful. But when the blasted rock, Impracticable else, shook off a store Of fruit, down raining at the nitrous shock, On rushed I, with a childish joy, to seize My spoil, the fruit of those grave-shadowing trees.