He begged and shuffled on; Sometimes he stopped to throw A bit and benison To sparrows in the snow, And clap a frozen ear

The book was dull, its pictures As leaden as its lore, But one glad, happy picture Made up for all and more: ’Twas that of you, sweet peasant,

For all its flowers and trailing b… Its singing birds and streams, This valley’s not the blissful spo… The paradise, it seems. I don’t forget a man I met

The morning that my baby came They found a baby swallow dead, And saw a something, hard to name, Flit moth-like over baby’s bed. My joy, my flower, my baby dear

Now one and all, you Roses, Wake up, you lie too long! This very morning closes The Nightingale his song; Each from its olive chamber

If you could bring her glories bac… You gentle sirs who sift the dust And burrow in the mould and must Of Babylon for bric-a-brac; Who catalogue and pigeon-hole

With Love among the haycocks We played at hide and seek; He shut his eyes and counted - We hid among the hay - Then he a haycock mounted,

Eve, with her basket, was Deep in the bells and grass, Wading in bells and grass Up to her knees, Picking a dish of sweet

“How fared you when you mortal wer… What did you see on my peopled sta… “Oh well enough,” I answered her, “It went for me where mortals are! ”I saw blue flowers and the merlin…

I saw with open eyes Singing birds sweet Sold in the shops For people to eat, Sold in the shops of

See an old unhappy bull, Sick in soul and body both, Slouching in the undergrowth Of the forest beautiful, Banished from the herd he led,

‘Twould ring the bells of Heaven The wildest peal for years, If Parson lost his senses And people came to theirs, And he and they together

I climbed a hill as light fell sho… And rooks came home in scramble so… And filled the trees and flapped a… And sang themselves to sleep; An owl from nowhere with no sound