When smoke stood up from Ludlow, And mist blew off from Teme, And blithe afield to ploughing Against the morning beam I strode beside my team,

O thou that from thy mansion Through time and place to roam, Dost send abroad thy children, And then dost call them home, That men and tribes and nations

The lads in their hundreds to Lud… There’s men from the barn and the… The lads for the girls and the lad… And there with the rest are the la… There’s chaps from the town and th…

The rain, it streams on stone and… The boot clings to the clay. Since all is done that’s due and r… Let’s home; and now, my lad, good-… For I must turn away.

How clear, how lovely bright, How beautiful to sight Those beams of morning play; How heaven laughs out with glee Where, like a bird set free,

'Tis time, I think, by Wenlock to… The golden broom should blow; The hawthorn sprinkled up and down Should charge the land with snow. Spring will not wait the loiterer’…

Could man be drunk for ever With liquor, love, or fights, Lief should I rouse at morning And lief lie down of nights. But men at whiles are sober

Bring, in this timeless grave to t… No cypress, sombre on the snow; Snap not from the bitter yew His leaves that live December thr… Break no rosemary, bright with rim…

Think no more, lad; laugh, be joll… Why should men make haste to die? Empty heads and tongues a-talking Make the rough road easy walking, And the feather pate of folly

Stay, if you list, O passer by th… Yet night approaches; better not t… I never sigh, nor flush, nor knit… Nor grieve to think how ill God m… Here, with one balm for many fever…

Once in the wind of morning I ranged the thymy wold; The world-wide air was azure And all the brooks ran gold. There through the dews beside me

Onward led the road again Through the sad uncoloured plain Under twilight brooding dim, And along the utmost rim Wall and rampart risen to sight

The stinging nettle only Will still be found to stand: The numberless, the lonely, The thronger of the land, The leaf that hurts the hand.

The world goes none the lamer For ought that I can see, Because this cursed trouble Has struck my days and me. The stars of heaven are steady,

High the vanes of Shrewsbury glea… Islanded in Severn stream; The bridges from the steepled cres… Cross the water east and west. The flag of morn in conqueror’s st…