asked Miss Celia , wondering where the little runaway belonged . `` I have two brothers , Thomas Merton Barlow and Harry Sanford Barlow . I am Alfred Tennyson Barlow . We do n't have any girls in our house , only Bridget . '' `` Do n't you go to school ? '' `` The boys do . I do n't learn any Greeks and Latins yet . I dig , and read to mamma , and make poetrys for her . '' `` Could n't you make some for me ? I 'm very fond of poetrys , '' proposed Miss Celia , seeing that this prattle amused the children . `` I guess I could n't make any now ; I made some coming along . I will say it to you . '' And , crossing his short legs , the inspired babe half said , half sung the following poem : -LRB- 1 -RRB- `` Sweet are the flowers of life , Swept o'er my happy days at home ; Sweet are the flowers of life When I was a little child . `` Sweet are the flowers of life That I spent with my father at home ; Sweet are the flowers of life When children played about the house . `` Sweet are the flowers of life When the lamps are lighted at night ; Sweet are the flowers of life When the flowers of summer bloomed . `` Sweet are the flowers of life Dead with the snows of winter ; Sweet are the flowers of life When the days of spring come on . -LRB- 1 -RRB- These lines were actually composed by a six-year old child . `` That 's all of that one . I made another one when I digged after the turtle . I will say that .
It is a very pretty one , '' observed the poet with charming candor ; and , taking a long breath , he tuned his little lyre afresh : Sweet , sweet XXXXX are passing O'er my happy home .
Barlow Bridget Celia Greeks Latins days night old poetrys prattle