ON BIRDLIP
I’vetramped a score of miles to-dayAnd now on Cotswold stand,Wondering if in any wayTheir owners understandHow all those little gold fields I seeAnd the great green woods beyondHave given themselves to me, to meWho own not an inch of land.Because I loved with deep desire,Wooing all as I walked,This noble country by tree and spireTaught (as if music talked)How Beauty is never bought or sold,But freely given to themWho worship more than crowns of goldHer dew-bright diadem.Nowall that under open heavenI see of arableOr pasture land to me is given,As runs the parable—“To him that hath not——” Even so,For all we love is oursWhile the little streams of Cotswold flow,Swaying forget-me-not flowers.
I’vetramped a score of miles to-dayAnd now on Cotswold stand,Wondering if in any wayTheir owners understandHow all those little gold fields I seeAnd the great green woods beyondHave given themselves to me, to meWho own not an inch of land.Because I loved with deep desire,Wooing all as I walked,This noble country by tree and spireTaught (as if music talked)How Beauty is never bought or sold,But freely given to themWho worship more than crowns of goldHer dew-bright diadem.Nowall that under open heavenI see of arableOr pasture land to me is given,As runs the parable—“To him that hath not——” Even so,For all we love is oursWhile the little streams of Cotswold flow,Swaying forget-me-not flowers.
I’vetramped a score of miles to-dayAnd now on Cotswold stand,Wondering if in any wayTheir owners understandHow all those little gold fields I seeAnd the great green woods beyondHave given themselves to me, to meWho own not an inch of land.
I’vetramped a score of miles to-day
And now on Cotswold stand,
Wondering if in any way
Their owners understand
How all those little gold fields I see
And the great green woods beyond
Have given themselves to me, to me
Who own not an inch of land.
Because I loved with deep desire,Wooing all as I walked,This noble country by tree and spireTaught (as if music talked)How Beauty is never bought or sold,But freely given to themWho worship more than crowns of goldHer dew-bright diadem.
Because I loved with deep desire,
Wooing all as I walked,
This noble country by tree and spire
Taught (as if music talked)
How Beauty is never bought or sold,
But freely given to them
Who worship more than crowns of gold
Her dew-bright diadem.
Nowall that under open heavenI see of arableOr pasture land to me is given,As runs the parable—“To him that hath not——” Even so,For all we love is oursWhile the little streams of Cotswold flow,Swaying forget-me-not flowers.
Nowall that under open heaven
I see of arable
Or pasture land to me is given,
As runs the parable—
“To him that hath not——” Even so,
For all we love is ours
While the little streams of Cotswold flow,
Swaying forget-me-not flowers.