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[What! Gad's Hill's haunted greenness you have seen.]
What! Gad's Hill's haunted greenness you have seen.There is a subtle spirit in its air;
The very soul of humour homes it there;
So is it now: of old so has it been;
Shakespeare from off it caught the rarest scene
That ever shook with laughs the sides of care;
Falstaff's fine instinct for a Prince grew where
That hill—what years since!—showed its Kentish green.
Fit home for England's world-loved Dickens, here
How fitly first the breath of earth he drew.
Here did the spirit of Shakespeare linger near
His dreaming cradle, as the boy he grew,
Whispering what fancies into his young ear,
Rare wit, deep humour, O how dear and true!
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