Classic Poem

The little fields are very green,
And kine the little fields do keep.
Through many channels laid between
Waters creep.

A stork goes stepping unto nest,
Goes stepping solemn like a king;
And red the west, and in the west
White gulls wing.

Boats are floating all the night
Down the level waters black,
Boats that left by candle-light
Have all come back.

They have cut the hay and bound it.
Poled along, the barge lags by.
Lazy duckweed winds around it
Lingeringly.

Fishers squatting in a row
Now have told their latest tale,
Now the flapping mills swing slow,
And words fail.

Goodnight, little fields so green,
Kine that little fields do keep,
Little country, brave and clean,