  Barefoot we went by Millers Dale When meadowsweet was golden gloom And happy love was in the vale Singing upon the summer bloom Of gipsy crop and branches laid Of willows over chanting pools, Barefoot by Millers Dale we made Our summer festival of fools. Folly bright-eyed, and quick, and young Was there with all his silly plots, And trotty wagtail stepped among The delicate forget-me-nots, And laughter played with us above The rocky shelves and weeded holes And we had fellowship to love The pigeons and the water-voles. Time soon shall be when we are all Stiller than ever runs the Wye, And every bitterness shall fall To-morrow in obscurity, And wars be done, and treasons fail, Yet shall new friends go down to greet The singing rocks of Millers Dale, And willow pools and meadowsweet. |
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