'England!' repeated he,
'And briar, and rose, and mavis,
A-singing in yon high tree.
'Ye speak me true, my leetle son,
So—so, it came to me,
A-drifting landwards on a spar,
And grey dawn on the sea.
'Ay, ay, I could not be mistook;
I knew them leafy trees,
I knew that land so witcherie sweet,