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,

Horace, Odes, iv, 7 The snows are fled away, leaves on… And grasses in the mead renew thei… The river to the river-bed withdra… And altered is the fashion of the…

White in the moon the long road li… The moon stands blank above; White in the moon the long road li… That leads me from my love. Still hangs the hedge without a gu…

Oh, when I was in love with you, Then I was clean and brave, And miles around the wonder grew How well did I behave. And now the fancy passes by,

When I came last to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale, Two friends kept step beside me, Two honest friends and hale. Now Dick lies long in the churchy…

When the eye of day is shut, And the stars deny their beams, And about the forest hut Blows the roaring wood of dreams, From deep clay, from desert rock,

When I meet the morning beam, Or lay me down at night to dream, I hear my bones within me say, “Another night, another day. ”When shall this slough of sense b…

West and away the wheels of darkne… Day’s beamy banner up the east is… Spectres and fears, the nightmare… Drown in the golden deluge of the… But over sea and continent from si…

Star and coronal and bell April underfoot renews, And the hope of man as well Flowers among the morning dews. Now the old come out to look,

Oh, see how thick the goldcup flow… Are lying in field and lane, With dandelions to tell the hours That never are told again. Oh may I squire you round the mea…

Good creatures, do you love your l… And have you ears for sense? Here is a knife like other knives, That cost me eighteen pence. I need but stick it in my heart

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 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,

Home is the sailor, home from sea: Her far-borne canvas furled The ship pours shining on the quay The plunder of the world. Home is the hunter from the hill:

The street sounds to the soldiers’… And out we troop to see: A single redcoat turns his head, He turns and looks at me. My man, from sky to sky’s so far,