Through fen and farmland walking With my own country love I saw slow flocked cows move White hulks on their day`s cruising; Sweet grass sprang for their grazing. The air was bright for looking: Most far in blue, aloft, Clouds steered a burnished drift; Larks` nip and tuck arising Came in for my love`s praising. Sheen of the noonsun striking Took my heart as if It were a green-tipped leaf Kindled by my love`s pleasing Into an ardent blazing. And so, together, talking, Through Sunday`s honey-air We walked (and still walk there—- Out of the sun`s bruising) Till the night mists came rising.SourceThe script ran 0.003 seconds.
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