By Langley Bush I roam, but the bush hath left its hill, On Cowper Green I stray, 'tis a desert strange and chill, And the spreading Lea Close Oak, ere decay had penned its will, To the axe of the spoiler and self-interest fell a prey, And Crossberry Way and old Round Oak's narrow lane With its hollow trees like pulpits I shall never see again, Enclosure like a Buonaparte let not a thing remain, It levelled every bush and tree and levelled every hill And hung the moles for traitors - though the brook is running still It runs a naked stream, cold and chill. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEATH (1) by MAXWELL BODENHEIM SONGS FOR MY MOTHER: 2. HER HANDS by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH THE THREE WARNINGS by HESTER LYNCH (SALUSBURY) PIOZZI THE MORAL FABLES: THE TRIAL OF THE FOX by AESOP THE FLAG by GEORGE HENRY BOKER THE WERE-WOLVES by WILLIAM WILFRED CAMPBELL INDIAN LULLABY by SARAH COMSTOCK |