Of gentle, strange, unlettered man,

Of Holy Hills, of frosty fen,

And ice and island foam,

Of flowers and antlered herds

And all the nesting of the birds

He brings the story home

Not his the crystal to divine

With those clear eyes the charmed page

Where Nature, in the inner shrine,

Enrols her childrenʼs heritage

Yet, where your roses welcome, June,

This tale of far-off errantry

May serve to cheat a liquide noon

With breezes of the Nortern Sea.