When summer kisses England
There is no lovelier place.
See the green meadows
With wild flowers festooned:
Brazen buttercups hoist high their heads
In mimicry of the sun;
Subtle speedwells, spread carpet-like,
Reflect the firmament;
Dazzling daisies’ pristine petals
Resolutely face the light;
Campions blush, embarrassed
By their own beauty.
Bees, in lazy haste,
Unbiased, visit each bloom
With diligent care.
The river, no more rushing
From wintry ravages to salty oblivion,
Now languid, slides slowly by,
Playing among the rocks,
Basking in warm sunlight.
Swallows swoop and dart
And twist and dive,
Beneath the open sky.
Multifarious birdsong breaks
Upon the listener’s ear,
Instilling awe and wonder.
The riotous greens that surround,
Of tree and field, of vale and hill,
Fill the eye and its owner
With rest and joy of living.
No, in all the world,
There is no fairer place
Than England’s countryside
Caressed by summer’s kiss.
Copyright © 2009 Desmond Hilary
There is no lovelier place.
See the green meadows
With wild flowers festooned:
Brazen buttercups hoist high their heads
In mimicry of the sun;
Subtle speedwells, spread carpet-like,
Reflect the firmament;
Dazzling daisies’ pristine petals
Resolutely face the light;
Campions blush, embarrassed
By their own beauty.
Bees, in lazy haste,
Unbiased, visit each bloom
With diligent care.
The river, no more rushing
From wintry ravages to salty oblivion,
Now languid, slides slowly by,
Playing among the rocks,
Basking in warm sunlight.
Swallows swoop and dart
And twist and dive,
Beneath the open sky.
Multifarious birdsong breaks
Upon the listener’s ear,
Instilling awe and wonder.
The riotous greens that surround,
Of tree and field, of vale and hill,
Fill the eye and its owner
With rest and joy of living.
No, in all the world,
There is no fairer place
Than England’s countryside
Caressed by summer’s kiss.
Copyright © 2009 Desmond Hilary
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