Past upland and hollow whence scents are blown
Of clover blossoms and flowers well known;
Over swamp and marshland where red-wings sing,
While in flag and tussock their nest they swing;
Through ancient orchards, o’er meadows green,
Where roses and buttercups girt the stream;
Away through the woodlands’ emerald shade
By sparkling springs, through fern-clad glade,
By old quarry ponds where memories cling
And gay swallows circle on tireless wing;