ON Quarley Down, on Quarley Down The trees grow straight, the trees grow tall, And there the Romans set their camp, And girdled it with moat and wall. On Quarley Down, on Quarley Down A man may see three counties lie, But never an eagle standard flap, Nor a Roman foot pass by. On Quarley Down, on Quarley Down A man may hear the wind and trees, But never a word of the Roman tongue, Nor a snatch of their martial melodies. On Quarley Down, on Quarley Down An ancient bed I lay upon, For I lay sleeping in the moat Dug nigh two thousand years agone. On Quarley Down, on Quarley Down The trees grow straight, the trees grow tall, And God send peace to those dead men Whose ditch is their memorial! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON A VOLUME OF SCHOLASTIC PHILOSOPHY by GEORGE SANTAYANA THE KING OF SPAIN by MAXWELL BODENHEIM BY THE ALMA RIVER by DINAH MARIA MULOCK CRAIK PARADISE by FREDERICK WILLIAM FABER STAR-TALK by ROBERT RANKE GRAVES TO COLIN CLOUT by ANTHONY MUNDAY |