Bredon Hill

by A.E. Housman


In summertime on Bredon
     The bells they sound so clear;
Round both the shires they ring them
     In steeples far and near,
     A happy noise to hear.
Here of a Sunday morning
     My love and I would lie,
And see the coloured counties,
     And hear the larks so high
     About us in the sky.
The bells would ring to call her
     In valleys miles away:
‘Come all to church, good people;
     Good people, come and pray.’
     But here my love would stay.
And I would turn and answer
     Among the springing thyme,
‘Oh, peal upon our wedding,
     And we will hear the chime,
     And come to church in time.’
But when the snows at Christmas
     On Bredon top were strown,
My love rose up so early
     And stole out unbeknown
     And went to church alone.
They tolled the one bell only,
     Groom there was none to see,
The mourners followed after,
     And so to church went she,
     And would not wait for me.
The bells they sound on Bredon,
     And still the steeples hum.
'Come all to church, good people,' -
     Oh, noisy bells, be dumb;
     I hear you, I will come.
A.E. Housman | Classic Poems
[ Bredon Hill ] Clunton and Clunbury ] 'Is my team ploughing ] Parta Quies ] On Wenlock Edge the wood's in trouble; ] Loveliest of trees, the cherry now ] The Merry Guide ] 'Tis time, I think by Wenlock Town ] When I came last to Ludlow ] When I was one-and-twenty ]





 Poems by Cameron Self | About Us | Contact Us Advertise on PG

© Cameron Self 2003-2014.  All rights reserved.                                                                                                                                  Hosted by UK Web.Solutions Direct