Ah God ! to see the branches stir Across the moon at Grantchester ! To smell the thrilling-sweet and rotten Unforgettable, unforgotten River-smell, and hear the breeze Sobbing in the little trees. Say, do the elm-clumps greatly stand Still guardians of that holy land ? The chestnuts shade, in reverend dream, The yet unacademic stream …
June 2012 archive
Jun 20