THEN a valley, centuries ago,Ranging the hedges for his filbert foodSits pertly on a bough, his brown nuts crackingAnd from the shell the sweet white kernel taking;Till with their crooks and bags a sort of boysTo share with him come with so great a noiseThat he is forced to leave a nut nigh broke,And for his life leap to a neighbor oak,Thence to a beech, thence to a row of ashes;Whilst through the quagmires and red water plashesThe boys run dabbing through thick and thin.One tears his hose, another breaks his shin;This, torn and tattered, hath with much adoGot by the briars; and that hath lost his shoe;This drops his band; that headlong falls for haste;Another cries behind for being last;With sticks and stones and many a sounding holloaThe little fool with no small sport they follow,Whilst he from tree to tree, from spray to sprayGets to the woods and hides him in his dray.—William Browne,Old English Poet.
THEN a valley, centuries ago,Ranging the hedges for his filbert foodSits pertly on a bough, his brown nuts crackingAnd from the shell the sweet white kernel taking;Till with their crooks and bags a sort of boysTo share with him come with so great a noiseThat he is forced to leave a nut nigh broke,And for his life leap to a neighbor oak,Thence to a beech, thence to a row of ashes;Whilst through the quagmires and red water plashesThe boys run dabbing through thick and thin.One tears his hose, another breaks his shin;This, torn and tattered, hath with much adoGot by the briars; and that hath lost his shoe;This drops his band; that headlong falls for haste;Another cries behind for being last;With sticks and stones and many a sounding holloaThe little fool with no small sport they follow,Whilst he from tree to tree, from spray to sprayGets to the woods and hides him in his dray.—William Browne,Old English Poet.
THEN a valley, centuries ago,
Ranging the hedges for his filbert food
Sits pertly on a bough, his brown nuts cracking
And from the shell the sweet white kernel taking;
Till with their crooks and bags a sort of boys
To share with him come with so great a noise
That he is forced to leave a nut nigh broke,
And for his life leap to a neighbor oak,
Thence to a beech, thence to a row of ashes;
Whilst through the quagmires and red water plashes
The boys run dabbing through thick and thin.
One tears his hose, another breaks his shin;
This, torn and tattered, hath with much ado
Got by the briars; and that hath lost his shoe;
This drops his band; that headlong falls for haste;
Another cries behind for being last;
With sticks and stones and many a sounding holloa
The little fool with no small sport they follow,
Whilst he from tree to tree, from spray to spray
Gets to the woods and hides him in his dray.
—William Browne,
Old English Poet.