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