SONGS ON THE DOWNS
1
This is the road the Romans made,
This track half lost in the green hills,
Or fading in a forest-glade
'Mid violets and daffodils.
This is the road the Romans made,
This track half lost in the green hills,
Or fading in a forest-glade
'Mid violets and daffodils.
The years have fallen like dead leaves,
Unwept, uncounted, and unstayed
(Such as the autumn tempest thieves),
Since first this road the Romans made.
Unwept, uncounted, and unstayed
(Such as the autumn tempest thieves),
Since first this road the Romans made.
2
A miser lives within this house,
His patron saint's the gnawing mouse,
And there's no peace upon his brows.
A miser lives within this house,
His patron saint's the gnawing mouse,
And there's no peace upon his brows.
A many ancient trees and thin
Do fold the place their shade within,
And moan, as for remembered sin.
Do fold the place their shade within,
And moan, as for remembered sin.