Here you will find the Poem The Hillmans Lass of poet Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
OVER the field where the grass is cool, (Follow the road who must !) With a song for the beech and the brown pool, And the noiseless tread in the dust, With a laugh for the lazy hours that go, And the folk who pass us by. (The trees they grow so broad, so low, They shut me from the sky.) Here be strawberries wild and sweet, (Follow the road who may !) And here's a rest for a bairn's feet And a kiss at the close o' day. And here's a cloud from the shining sea Like a white moth in the night. (On the edge o' the barley field, may be The stars would show more bright.) Cut me a flute where the reeds are brown. (Follow the road who will !) O, I'll dress you fair in a green gown And a cloak that is finer still. Your sleeves shall be o' the fairies' lawn, Your shoon as red as the rose. (Do you think that the wind which wakes at dawn Will bring us a breath o' the snows ?) O, the world's wide, and the world is long. (Follow the road who may !) And here's a lilt of the wild song The Romany pipers play. And 'Mine,' it sings, 'is the moon's shield, And the cloak o' the cloud is mine.' (Do you think that the lowland clover field Is sweet as the upland pine ?)
