 | English Roses |  |
MY CHILTERN HOME.
My Chiltern home comes back to me,
With slopes and summits fair;
I hear the far winds talking,
I see the dear birds walking
As though their movements were more free
Upon the paths of air.
With slopes and summits fair;
I hear the far winds talking,
I see the dear birds walking
As though their movements were more free
Upon the paths of air.
The stately house that hidden lies,
Embosomed in its green;
As if it were a portal,
To palaces immortal;
That claims communion with the skies,
And mysteries unseen.
Embosomed in its green;
As if it were a portal,
To palaces immortal;
That claims communion with the skies,
And mysteries unseen.
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The swallow, scribbled like a flake
Of lightning on the blue;
The roses whither flocking
Brown bees would go a-rocking;
The butterflies, too wide awake
To tell their fleeting hue.
Of lightning on the blue;
The roses whither flocking
Brown bees would go a-rocking;
The butterflies, too wide awake
To tell their fleeting hue.
Our sentinel the Scottish fir,
In sunset soaked and warm;
The murmur of the beeches,
In wise dim woodland speeches;
The owl, that is at eve astir,
A shy and shadowy form.
In sunset soaked and warm;
The murmur of the beeches,
In wise dim woodland speeches;
The owl, that is at eve astir,
A shy and shadowy form.
The coppice, whence the squirrel peeps
In curious furtive play;
With oak and hazel rustling
And busy creatures bustling
In shadows, where the linnet cheeps
Its little life away.
In curious furtive play;
With oak and hazel rustling
And busy creatures bustling
In shadows, where the linnet cheeps
Its little life away.
And in the Spring a carpet laid
Light as the driven snow,
Most wonderful and whiter;
As if some maiden writer
Had scattered thus, though half afraid,
Her thoughts like heaven below.
Light as the driven snow,
Most wonderful and whiter;
As if some maiden writer
Had scattered thus, though half afraid,
Her thoughts like heaven below.
And from the margin of the lawn,
The purple distances;
And counties nigh a dozen,
Whose beauty well nigh cozen
An angel from his endless dawn
With earthly images.
The purple distances;
And counties nigh a dozen,
Whose beauty well nigh cozen
An angel from his endless dawn
With earthly images.
And then the curtain of the night
Above the flowers, that nod
In fairy neatness folded;
And with their rest re-moulded
Of dew and stillness and delight,
By the most gentle God.
Above the flowers, that nod
In fairy neatness folded;
And with their rest re-moulded
Of dew and stillness and delight,
By the most gentle God.
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