Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Roman road, a line of trees
wolds valley ways wooded and streamed
with lakes of a sudden after a chattering fall
with ducks and swans and swallows o'er all.
May and honeysuckle midnight perfumes
while animal slots walk a thousand greens
and the west wind whispers forever free
this is the land in the heart of me.
Gentle hills ripple and roll
crystal streams run to the sea
past gorse bushes golden in the dell
high clouds above billow and swell.
Hidden cottages of the valley
closely guarded by silent trees
are stalwart havens, precious bowers
where peace surrounds our golden hours.
