There is a little hill in Picardy That, in the bygone days, was fair to see With silvery leaves of the slim poplar tree. Ah! lovely little hill in Picardy! White were the boles as are a maiden's hands; And there were willow-withes and hazel-wands, And ferns, with frail antennæ of their fronds. Ah! lovely little hill in Picardy! And there the purple violets made spring A dream of loveliness; many a tender thing— Vervain and vetch—added its glamoring, Ah! lovely little hill in Picardy! And there was morn and vesper song of birds Whereto the wind joined with its joyous words; And there was kindly shade for the sleek herds, Ah! lovely little hill in Picardy! But now—but now—what is there left to see Save desolation? Riven earth and tree And lines of crosses tell their tale. Ah, me, This lonely little hill in Picardy! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOMESDAY BOOK: HENRY MURRAY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS JUNIUS BRUTUS BOOTH by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TACT by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE GALLOWS by PHILIP EDWARD THOMAS ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 4. TO THE HON. CHARLES TOWNSHEND, IN THE COUNTRY by MARK AKENSIDE TO MRS. PRIESTLEY, WITH SOME DRAWINGS OF BIRDS AND INSECTS by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |