But you are dearer To sky and earth Than lime-trees, plane-trees Of meaner birth. Your sweet shy beauty Dearer to us Than tree-folk, worthy, Censorious. DOWN COMMERCIAL ROAD (GLOUCESTER) (TO MY MOTHER) When I was small and packed with tales of desert islands far My mother took me walking in a grey ugly street, But there the sea-wind met us with a jolly smell of tar, A sailorman went past to town with slow rolling gait; And Gloucester she’s famous in story. The trees and shining sky of June were good enough to see, Better than books or any tales the sailormen might tell-- But tops’le spars against the blue made fairyland for me; The snorting tug made surges like the huge Atlantic swell. And Gloucester she’s famous in story. Then thought I, how much better to sail the open seas Than sit in school at spelling-books or sums of grocers’ wares. And I’d have knelt for pity at any captain’s knees To go see the banyan tree or white Arctic bears. And Gloucester she’s famous in story. O Gloucester men about the world that dare the seas to-day, Remember little boys at school a-studying their best To hide somehow from Mother, and get clear away To where the flag of England flies prouder than the rest. And Gloucester she’s famous in story. FROM OMIECOURT O small dear things for which we fight-- Red roofs, ricks crowned with early gold, Orchards that hedges thick enfold-- O visit us in dreams to-night! Who watch the stars through broken walls And ragged roofs, that you may be Still kept our own and proudly free While Severn from the Welsh height falls. LE COQ FRANÇAIS (TO RONALD)