In their chosen pool.
Many an afternoon
Of the summer day
Dreaming here I lay;
And I know how soon
Idly at its hour
First the deep bell hums
From the minster tower,
And then evening comes,
Creeping up the glade,
In their chosen pool.
Many an afternoon
Of the summer day
Dreaming here I lay;
And I know how soon
Idly at its hour
First the deep bell hums
From the minster tower,
And then evening comes,
Creeping up the glade,