Norman Rowland Gale

Here you will find the Poem Content of poet Norman Rowland Gale


THOUGH singing but the shy and sweet 
Untrod by multitudes of feet, 
Songs bounded by the brook and wheat, 
 I have not failed in this, 
The only lure my woodland note, 
To win all England?s whitest throat! 
O bards in gold and fire who wrote, 
 Be yours all other bliss!