Fox's Dingle
Take now a country mood,
Resolve, distil it: —
Nine Acre swaying alive,
June flowers that fill it,
Spicy sweet—briar bush,
The uneasy wren
Fluttering from ash to birch
And back again.
Milkwort on its low stem,
Spread hawthorn tree,
Sunlight patching the wood,
A hive—bound bee....
Girls riding nim—nim—nim,
Ladies, trot—trot,
Gentlemen hard at gallop,
Shouting, steam—hot.
Now over the rough turf
Bridles go jingle,
And there’s a well—loved pool,
By Fox’s Dingle,
Where Sweetheart, my brown mare,
Old Glory’s daughter,
May loll her leathern tongue
In snow—cool water.
