Still the Earth is Green

Still the Earth is green.
I wander along the pathways –
those deep brown veins
flowing through England’s heartlands

over fields that breast the hills
and by dark brooks
that polish silver stones
for my delight;

past angelic horses
enduring swarms from Hell
to teach me patience.
And still the Earth is green.

The sheep, with ancient courtesy,
flee at my approach
and here I pause
to take the languid pulse

of the oak that’s rooted to the scene:
the distant views of tiny cows
where time has stopped – or do they move? –
where still the Earth is green.