and learned to love each forest tree.
But I was born at Marlborough,
and love the homely faces there;
and for all other men besides
’tis little love I have to spare.
I should not mind to die for them,
my own dear downs, my comrades true.
But that great heart of Bethlehem,
he died for men he never knew.
And yet, I think, at Golgotha,