Lean on the lichen-dappled stone-made wall Here in the grassy lane, moor high and calm. Look on the fields in low lit evening light, Their patterned patches gay about the farm. Blue-green, grey-green, lettuce-green, and emerald, A sudden shock of mustard sweeping to the sky, Ash trees, chestnut, oak, and dark green conifer, Hornbeam and copper beech and thorn tree standing by. Grey is the farmhouse, weatherproof and square, Solid in the pale light, long established there. Secret are the faces of the men upon the moor; Bony and brown are they, hard as a door. But when they talk to you music is heard, For the shepherd speaks with the voice of a bird. |