Ho! green fields and running brooks! Knotted strings and fishing-hooks Of the truant, stealing down Weedy backways of the town. Where the sunshine overlooks, By green fields and running brooks, All intruding guests of chance With a golden tolerance, Cooing doves, or pensive pair Of picnickers, straying there-- By green fields and running brooks, Sylvan shades and mossy nooks! And--O Dreamer of the Days, Murmurer of roundelays All unsung of words or books, Sing green fields and running brooks!SourceThe script ran 0.004 seconds.
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