Good-Bye to Oxfordshire
GOOD-BYE to England — land of little towns
And a great history. Good-bye, sweet lanes
Full of bright angel children, and old men
Ruddy and gentle; and the oaks and beeches,
Elms that engulf a hamlet in the sky,
Majestic, beautiful, benignly towering
Over a tiny green and grassy vill, —
Thatched and depressed with ivy and the beehives,—
And infant shops with Lilliputian toys,
Odd nothings sold for a penny with a smile,
From clean bowed windows out of wonderland.
These are her jewels, these small sacred towns,
Unique in the Universe! These miniatures,
Initials on a mediæval text,
Brilliant as Chaucer’s death-defying page,
Enrich the map of England. Such she was,
Is, and shall be, whatever else the Fates,
Conspiring in their gloomy cavern, threaten,
Or the dark skies forecast, or foes at home —
Enemies, or the Avengers of the World —
Wreak on her distant realms through peace or war.
And a great history. Good-bye, sweet lanes
Full of bright angel children, and old men
Ruddy and gentle; and the oaks and beeches,
Elms that engulf a hamlet in the sky,
Majestic, beautiful, benignly towering
Over a tiny green and grassy vill, —
Thatched and depressed with ivy and the beehives,—
And infant shops with Lilliputian toys,
Odd nothings sold for a penny with a smile,
From clean bowed windows out of wonderland.
These are her jewels, these small sacred towns,
Unique in the Universe! These miniatures,
Initials on a mediæval text,
Brilliant as Chaucer’s death-defying page,
Enrich the map of England. Such she was,
Is, and shall be, whatever else the Fates,
Conspiring in their gloomy cavern, threaten,
Or the dark skies forecast, or foes at home —
Enemies, or the Avengers of the World —
Wreak on her distant realms through peace or war.