Big glory mellowing on the mellowing hills, <br />And in the Uttle valleys, thatch and dreams, <br />Wrought by the manifold and vagrant wills <br />Of sun and ripening rain and wind ; so gleams <br />My country, that great magic cup which spills <br />Into my mind a thousand thousand streams <br />Of glory mellowing on the mellowing hills <br />And in the httle valleys, thatch and dreams. <br /> <br />O you dear heights of blue no ploughman tiUs, <br />O valleys where the curling mist upsteams <br />White over fields of trembhng daffodils. <br />And you old dusty little water-mills. <br />Through all my life, for joy of you, sweet thrills <br />Shook me, and in my death at last there beams <br />Big glory mellowing on the mellowing hills <br />And in the Uttle valleys, thatch and dreams.<br /><br />Frederick William (FW) Harvey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-rondel-of-gloucestershire/
