A Spring Harvest/Songs on the Downs
SONGS ON THE DOWNS
1This is the road the Romans made, This track half lost in the green hills,Or fading in a forest-glade 'Mid violets and daffodils.
The years have fallen like dead leaves, Unwept, uncounted, and unstayed(Such as the autumn tempest thieves), Since first this road the Romans made.
2A miser lives within this house,His patron saint's the gnawing mouse,And there's no peace upon his brows.
A many ancient trees and thinDo fold the place their shade within,And moan, as for remembered sin.