I came across this poem the other day when I watched an old BBC programme The Queen’s Realm: A Prospect of England, from 1977. This was a helicopter journey over the landscape of England, accompanied by poetry readings, broadcast for the jubilee that year. The line “such, such were the joys” sounded very familiar to me, so I looked it up and discovered this gem by William Blake (1757–1827).
It was published in Songs of Innocence in 1789. There’s a bucolic innocence and joy here to begin with that develops into a powerful awareness of the passing of time and the fleeting nature of life’s pleasures.
I don’t know who first used the metaphor of a single day representing a life, but it’s a universal theme. Here, it is expressed through that powerful symbol of English life, the village green.
As far as I know, the spelling and capitalisation are Blake’s.
The Ecchoing Green by William Blake
The sun does arise,
And make happy the skies.
The merry bells ring
To welcome the Spring.
The sky-lark and thrush,
The birds of the bush,
Sing louder around,
To the bells’ cheerful sound
While our sports shall be seen
On the Ecchoing Green.
Old John, with white hair
Does laugh away care,
Sitting under the oak,
Among the old folk,
They laugh at our play,
And soon they all say,
‘Such, such were the joys.
When we all, girls and boys,
In our youth-time were seen,
On the Ecchoing Green.’
Till the little ones weary
No more can be merry
The sun does descend,
And our sports have an end:
Round the laps of their mothers,
Many sisters and brothers,
Like birds in their nest,
Are ready for rest;
And sport no more seen,
On the darkening Green.
The Good Reader 