WHEN A LITTLE FARM I KEEP
When a little farm I keep,
I shall tend my kine and sheep,
And my pretty lambs shall fold
In deep pastures starred with gold.
On green carpets they shall tread,
Gold and purple be their bed,
Honey clover make their food
In a watered solitude.
Garden places I shall tend,
For a welcome to a friend,
Make for him a roomy seat
By the box and privet sweet.
And my kitchen garden shall
Grow me fruits on tree and wall,
Give me blossoms in the sping
And an autumn gathering.
An old dial and a cote
Where the pigeons fly and float,
And a well so green and dim
Where the little fishes swim.
Hives of honey I shall own,
Bees with drowsy monotone
Toil all day to bring me home
Heather honey at the gloam.
Twixt the mountains and the sea
There my little farm will be.
In a heart-remembered spot
I shall have my happy lot.
In a heart-remembered place,
Where the mountains lift their face,
I shall tend my sheep and kine,
And a thankful heart be mine.
When a little farm I keep,
I shall sleep the happiest sleep,
To my simple meals invite
Thanksgiving and appetite.
In the heart-remembered place
I shall wear a shining face,
And my quiet nights be praise,
And a prayer my innocent days.
When a little farm I keep,
I shall tend my kine and sheep,
And my pretty lambs shall fold
In deep pastures starred with gold.
On green carpets they shall tread,
Gold and purple be their bed,
Honey clover make their food
In a watered solitude.
Garden places I shall tend,
For a welcome to a friend,
Make for him a roomy seat
By the box and privet sweet.
And my kitchen garden shall
Grow me fruits on tree and wall,
Give me blossoms in the sping
And an autumn gathering.
An old dial and a cote
Where the pigeons fly and float,
And a well so green and dim
Where the little fishes swim.
Hives of honey I shall own,
Bees with drowsy monotone
Toil all day to bring me home
Heather honey at the gloam.
Twixt the mountains and the sea
There my little farm will be.
In a heart-remembered spot
I shall have my happy lot.
In a heart-remembered place,
Where the mountains lift their face,
I shall tend my sheep and kine,
And a thankful heart be mine.
When a little farm I keep,
I shall sleep the happiest sleep,
To my simple meals invite
Thanksgiving and appetite.
In the heart-remembered place
I shall wear a shining face,
And my quiet nights be praise,
And a prayer my innocent days.