 | New songs of innocence |  |
6
THE MOORLAND.
The long low marshy moorland, with its rushes and its reeds,
Its stunted saughs and willows, its melancholy weeds,
The black ooze creeping snakelike under all its green—oh why
Need such a dreary place as this have met my Willie's eye?
Its stunted saughs and willows, its melancholy weeds,
The black ooze creeping snakelike under all its green—oh why
Need such a dreary place as this have met my Willie's eye?
The silver Earn twines lovingly about its fertile strath;
A fairy birchwood beckons us along our onward path;
And yonder into heaven, a hill's soft rounded bosom swells—
Let's leave this lone forsaken moor, and go where beauty dwells.
A fairy birchwood beckons us along our onward path;
And yonder into heaven, a hill's soft rounded bosom swells—
Let's leave this lone forsaken moor, and go where beauty dwells.
The golden sky looks graciously upon the gentle hills
And joyous streams, and with its smile the whole green valley fills;
It looks upon the moorland too with just as loving eye—
Why should not Willie smile upon what's smiled on by the sky?
And joyous streams, and with its smile the whole green valley fills;
It looks upon the moorland too with just as loving eye—
Why should not Willie smile upon what's smiled on by the sky?
| New songs of innocence | |