MILLERS DALE

By John Drinkwater

Barefoot we went by Millers Dale

When meadowsweet was golden gloom

And happy love was in the vale

Singing upon the summer bloom

Of gipsy crop and branches laid

Of willows over chanting pools,

Barefoot by Millers Dale we made

Our summer festival of fools.

Folly bright-eyed, and quick, and young

Was there with all his silly plots,

And trotty wagtail stepped among

The delicate forget-me-nots,

And laughter played with us above

The rocky shelves and weeded holes

And we had fellowship to love

The pigeons and the water-voles.

Time soon shall be when we are all

Stiller than ever runs the Wye,

And every bitterness shall fall

To-morrow in obscurity,

And wars be done, and treasons fail,

Yet shall new friends go down to greet

The singing rocks of Millers Dale,

And willow pools and meadowsweet.