Round the house were lilacs and strawberries

And foal-foots spangling the paths

And far away on the sand-hills dewberries

Caught dust from the sea’s long swaths.

Up the wolds the woods were walking

And nuts fell out of their hair.

At the gate the nets hung balking

The star-lit rush of a hare.

In the autumn fields the stubble

Tinkled the music of gleaning.

At a mother’s knees the trouble

Lost all its meaning.

Yea what good beginnings

To this sad end!

Have we had our innings?

God forfend!