OVER THE FIELDS AND THE TREES WE SEE THE DISTANT HILLS.

WE SEE THE VALLEYS IN THEIR MORNING MIST

WREATHED UNDER LIMPID HILLS IN MORNING LIGHT,

HAPPY WITH MANY A YEOMAN MELODIST;

WE SEE THE LITTLE ROADS OF TWINKLING WHITE

BUSY WITH FIELD-WARD TEAMS AND MARKET GEAR

OF ROSY MEN, CLOTH-GAITERED WHO CAN TELL

THE MANY-MINDED SEASONS OF THE YEAR

WHO KNOW WHY CROP AND KINE FARE ILL OR WELL.

WE SEE THE SUN PERSUADE THE MIST AWAY,

'TILL TOWN AND SUN ARE SHINING TO THE DAY.