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A Shropshire Lad by A. E. Housman
page 23 of 67 (34%)

But in the golden-sanded brooks
And azure meres I spy
A silly lad that longs and looks
And wishes he were I.



XXI

BREDON HILL [1]

In summertime on Bredon
The bells they sound so clear;
Round both the shires they ring them
In steeples far and near,
A happy noise to hear.

Here of a Sunday morning
My love and I would lie
And see the coloured counties,
And hear the larks so high
About us in the sky.

The bells would ring to call her
In valleys miles away:
"Come all to church, good people;
Good people, come and pray."
But here my love would stay.

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