Far in a western brookland <br />That bred me long ago <br />The poplars stand and tremble <br />By pools I used to know. <br /> <br />There, in the windless night-time, <br />The wanderer, marvelling why, <br />Halts on the bridge to hearken <br />How soft the poplars sigh. <br /> <br />He hears: no more remembered <br />In fields where I was known, <br />Here I lie down in London <br />And turn to rest alone. <br /> <br />There, by the starlit fences, <br />The wanderer halts and hears <br />My soul that lingers sighing <br />About the glimmering weirs.<br /><br />Alfred Edward Housman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/far-in-a-western-brookland/
