In Somerset

By Elizabeth Rebecca Ward

In Somerset they guide the plough

From early dawn till twilight now.

The good red earth smells sweeter yet,

Behind the plough, in Somerset.

The celandines round last year's mow

Blaze out... and with his old-time vow

The South Wind woos the Violet,

In Somerset.

Then, every brimming dyke and trough

Is laughing wide with ripples now,

And oh,‘ tis easy to forget

That wintry winds can sigh and sough,

When thrushes chant on every bough

In Somerset!