IN ENGLAND

In England there are wrongs, no doubt,

Which should be righted; so men say,

Who seek to weed earth's garden out

And give the roses right of way.

Yes, right of way to fruit and rose,

Where now but poison ivy grows.

In England there is wide unrest

They tell me, who should know. And yet

I saw but hedges gaily dressed,

And eyes, where love and kindness met.

Yes, love and kindness, met and made

Soft sunshine, even in the shade.

In England there are haunting things

Which follow one to other lands;

Like some pervading scent that clings

To laces, touched by vanished hands.

Yes, touched by vanished hands, that gave

A fragrance which defies the grave.

In England, centuries of art

Give common things a mellow tone,

And wake old memories in the heart

Of other lives the soul has known.

Yes, other lives in some past age

Start forth from canvas, or from page.

In England there are simple joys

The modern world has left all sweet;

In London's heart are nooks, where noise

Has entered but with slippered feet;

Yes, entered softly.

Friend, believe,

To part from England is to grieve.