previous next

A farewell song to the lane.

A song for the lane,
     The green old lane,
That led from the hill
     To the level plain.
O gentle muse, ere it fade from sight,
     One feeble song to its praise indite.

The green old lane,
     It towered so high,
The trees at the top
     Seemed to touch the sky.

On the moss-grown wall
     At either side
The vines grew wild
     In native pride.
The wild rose blossomed,
     The locust tree,
With its graceful foliage,
     Was fair to see.
A brook crossed the lane
     Near the drooping willow,
Two planks formed a bridge
     O'er this placid billow.

A hawthorn grew
     In that green old lane,
Just midway it stood
     Tween the hill and the plain.
A moss-grown stone 'neath its shadow lay,
     And children played there many a day.

Alas! alas! for the green old lane!
     I never shall look on it thus again.
The wants of the people the town must meet,
     The pleasant lane must be made a street.

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License.

An XML version of this text is available for download, with the additional restriction that you offer Perseus any modifications you make. Perseus provides credit for all accepted changes, storing new additions in a versioning system.

hide Places (automatically extracted)

View a map of the most frequently mentioned places in this document.

hide Display Preferences
Greek Display:
Arabic Display:
View by Default:
Browse Bar: