Village Green

Forget-me-nots and daffodils
With faces kissed by evening sun
Bow with ancient chivalry
'Neath steeple rung for even-song.

To me, in quaintest fantasy
Those flowers' royal-coloured souls
Shining on the village green
Are as of those of knights of old.

While through the chimney ribbon curls
Amber sun does longing gaze
Her shadow-lashes glancing graze
Our emerald greens of pearly haze.

Hark! Chimings of old iron cast
Their spells upon our gold empires
With echoes of the bells that roll
Around the caverns of my heart.

While modern birds with antique songs
Abide with me, all wondering day
Until the evening fades to night
And palls my wandering way.

In memoires steeped, the spire wrings
Her hollow bells (which heave and sigh)
And casts her crooked smile and bends
Her crooked kiss up to the sky.