Oh, to be in EnglandNow that April's there,And whoever wakes in EnglandSees, some morning, unaware,That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheafRound the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,While the chaffinch sings on the orchard boughIn England - now!
And after April, when May follows,And the...
Published 04/20/24
The tree that never had to fightFor sun and sky and air and light,But stood out in the open plainAnd always got its share of rain,Never became a forest kingBut lived and died a scrubby thing.
The man who never had to toilTo gain and farm his patch of soil,Who never had to win his shareOf sun and...
Published 01/02/24