Bredon Hill
by
A.E. Housman |
In summertime on Bredon |
The bells they sound so clear; |
Round both the shires they ring them |
In steeples far and near, |
A happy noise to hear.
|
Here of a Sunday morning |
My love and I would lie, |
And see the coloured counties, |
And hear the larks so high |
About us in the sky.
|
The bells would ring to call her |
In valleys miles away: |
‘Come all to church, good people; |
Good people, come and pray.’ |
But here my love would stay.
|
And I would turn and answer |
Among the springing thyme, |
‘Oh, peal upon our wedding, |
And we will hear the chime, |
And come to church in time.’
|
But when the snows at Christmas |
On Bredon top were strown, |
My love rose up so early |
And stole out unbeknown |
And went to church alone.
|
They tolled the one bell only, |
Groom there was none to see, |
The mourners followed after, |
And so to church went she, |
And would not wait for me.
|
The bells they sound on Bredon, |
And still the steeples hum. |
'Come all to church, good people,' - |
Oh, noisy bells, be dumb; |
I hear you, I will come.
|
A.E. Housman |
Classic Poems |
|
[ Bredon Hill ] [ Clunton and Clunbury ] [ 'Is my team ploughing ] [ Parta Quies ] [ On Wenlock Edge the wood's in trouble; ] [ Loveliest of trees, the cherry now ] [ The Merry Guide ] [ 'Tis time, I think by Wenlock Town ] [ When I came last to Ludlow ] [ When I was one-and-twenty ] |