THERE'S mist in the hollows, There's gold on the tree, And South go the swallows Away over sea. They home in our steeple That climbs in the wind, And, parson and people, We welcome them kind. The steeple was set here In 1266; If William could get here He'd burn it to sticks. He'd burn it for ever, Bells, belfry and vane, That swallows would never Come back there again. He'd bang down their perches With cannon and gun, For churches are churches, And William's a Hun. So—mist in the hollow And leaf falling brown— Ere home comes the swallow May William be down! And high stand the steeples From Lincoln to Wells For parsons and peoples, For birds and for bells! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BALLAD OF HECTOR IN HADES by EDWIN MUIR TO THE RIVER by EDGAR ALLAN POE SONNET: 9 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE UNDERWOODS: BOOK 1: 21. REQUIEM by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON FREQUENTLY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS TO HIS INGENIOUS FRIEND, MR. N. TATE by PHILIP AYRES ANYWHERE OUT OF THE WORLD by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE ON A PRESSED FLOWER IN MY CPOY OF KEATS by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE |