Classic Poem

I LEFT behind the green and gracious weald,
And climbing stiffly up the steep incline
Found high above each little cloistered field,
Above the sombre autumn woods of pine —
Where gentle skies are clear and crystalline —
The place remote from dense and foolish towns;
And there, where all the winds are sharp with brine,
I heard the sheep bells ringing on the Downs.

The sun hung out of heaven like a shield
Emblazoned o'er with heraldry divine.
I suddenly saw, as though with eyes unsealed,
A portent sent me for an awful sign,
A fairy sea whereon the cold stars shine;
And standing on the sward of withered browns,
Burnt by the noontide and cropped close and fine,
I heard the sheep bells ringing on the Downs.

A carillon of delicate music pealed
And tingled through the steeple of my spine;
My soul was filled with loveliness and healed.
I know how joy and anguish intertwine —
But this shall greatly comfort me as wine,
Good wine, comforts a man and sweetly drowns
The many sorrows of this heart of mine —
I heard the sheep bells ringing on the Downs.

L'Envoi

Prince, old bell-wether of an ancient line,
When you're dead mutton I will weave you crowns
Of living laurel — if on you I dine —
I heard the sheep bells ringing on the Downs!