(_Dedicated to the Gloucestershire Society_)
_North, South, East, and West: Think of whichever you love the best. Forest and vale and high blue hill: You may have whichever you will, And quaff one cup to the love o’ your soul Before we drink to the lovely whole._
Here are high hills with towns all stone, (Did you come from the Cotswolds then?) And an architecture all their own, And a breed of sturdy men.
But here’s a forest old and stern, (Say, do you know the Wye?) Where sunlight dapples green miles of fern, A river wandering by.
Here’s peaceful meadow-land and kine, (Do you see a fair grey tower?) Where sweet together close entwine Grass, clover, and daisy flower.
Here stretches the land toward the sea (Behold the castle bold!) Where men live out life merrily, And die merry and old.
_North, South, East, and West: Think of whichever you love the best. Forest and vale and high blue hill: You shall have whichever you will, To quaff one cup to the love o’ your soul Before we drink to the lovely whole._
What thief is he can rob this treasury, Which hath not gold but dreams within its gates? What power can enter in to take from me My treasure, while upon the threshold waits “Courage,” my watch-dog, keeping back the fates Which follow close until I do depart In safety from their little loves and hates? Singing of all I carry in my heart.
Guarded of dreams against all evil chance, With young Adventure arm in arm I go To laugh at Luck and silly Circumstance. And, counting naught that comes to me my foe, I change, if ’tis my whim, the winter snow To blowing blossom: and by that same art I fashion as I will Life’s weal and woe: Singing of all I carry in my heart.
Let me go lame and lousy like a tramp But feel the wind and know the moonlit sky! What matter if the falling dew be damp-- Still is it dew! And well contented I Among my dreams (in seeming poverty) Far from the cities and the noisy mart,-- With Life and Death--my dearest friends--to lie, Singing of all I carry in my heart.
Prince of this world, high monarch of all those Who deem Reality life’s better part, Herewith I tweak thy crooked royal nose-- Singing of all I carry in my heart.
When Noe went sailing with his crew And waters covered over the earth, Trees that in Eden-orchard grew Got washed away to Minsterworth.