Poised like the black-winged swallow born to roam

And find a living in the ambient air,

We sacrificed our home

For unpolluted realms of natural law.

Must we despair

Because the neutral tissue of our dreams

Dissolves like ravelled mist before the heat,

And at our feet

The radiant prospect of this ancient land,

Grey hamlets, happy fields, sequestered streams,

Unconquerable stand?

E’en the world-wandering bird suspends her nest

Beneath the overhanging cottage eves

In fecund rest;

And breezes ocean-born

In brooding oaks scarce stir the crumpled leaves,

Where poppies flame among the ripening corn.

So we return to worship homely things,

That filled our baby hands, ancestral springs

Resurgent and intense

Stirring the reverent heart

Of childhood’s innocence.