With dashing wheels and flying steed,
Nor whip nor spur to urge their speed,
To view his land Fitch Moreland came,
The eldest of his honoured name,
And heir of all, the green-crowned wood,
In which the low-roofed school-house stood,
The wide-spread fields, the meadows broad,
The fruitful land and grassy sward,
And near embraced with roses wild
The old brown house that through them smiled,