So the world's my sweetheart and I sort of want to squeeze 'er. Toffs 'ull get no chance of heaven, take 'em in the lump! Never laid in hay-fields when the dawn came over-sea, sir? Guess it's true that story 'bout the needle and the hump! Never crept into a stack because the wind was blowing, Hollered out a nest and closed the door-way with a clump, Laid and heard the whisper of the silence, growing, growing, Watched a thousand wheeling stars and wondered if they'd bump? What I say would stump Joshua! But I've done it, sir. Don't think I'm off my chump.
If you try and lay, sir, with your face turned up to wonder, Up to twenty million miles of stars that roll like one, Right across to God knows where, and you just huddled under Like a little beetle with no business of his own, There you'd hear--like growing grass--a funny silent sound, sir, Mixed with curious crackles in a steady undertone, Just the sound of twenty billion stars a-going round, sir, Yus, and you beneath 'em like a wise old ant, alone, Ant upon a stone, Waving of his antlers, on the Sussex downs, alone.
Wide-eyed our childhood roamed the world Knee-deep in blowing grass, And watched the white clouds crisply curled Above the mountain-pass, And lay among the purple thyme And from its fragrance caught Strange hints from some elusive clime Beyond the bounds of thought.
Glimpses of fair forgotten things Beyond the gates of birth, Half-caught from far off ancient springs In heaven, and half of earth; And coloured like a fairy-tale And whispering evermore Half memories from the half-fenced pale Of lives we lived before.
Here, weary of the roaring town A-while may I return And while the west wind roams the down Lie still, lie still and learn: Here are green leagues of murmuring wheat With blue skies overhead, And, all around, the winds are sweet With May-bloom, white and red.
And, to and fro, the bee still hums His low unchanging song, And the same rustling whisper comes As through the ages long: Through all the thousands of the years That same sweet rumour flows, With dreaming skies and gleaming tears And kisses and the rose.
Once more the children throng the lanes, Themselves like flowers, to weave Their garlands and their daisy-chains And listen and believe The tale of _Once-upon-a-time_, And hear the _Long-ago_ And _Happy-ever-after_ chime Because it must be so.