Bramber.

Before the downs in their great horse-shoes rise,

I know a village where the Adur runs,

Blown by sweet winds and by beneficent suns

Visited and made ripe beneath kind skies.

Light and delight are in the children's eyes

And there the mothers sit, the fortunate ones,

Blest in their daughters, happy in their sons,

And the old men are beautiful and wise.

There stand the downs, great, close, tall, friendly, still,

Linked up by grassy saddles, hill on hill,

And steep the village in unending peace

And to the north the plains in order lie,

Heavy with crops and woods alternately

And lively with low sounds that never cease.