All who love Nature must delight to roam
Along the sylvan glades of this old wood,
Where noble tress have many ages stood,
And many song-birds long have made their home.
Here trees of every form and hue are found, 5
And wildflowers ’neath their branches freely bloom:
For thousands, town-pent now, there here is room
To gladden eye and ear with sight and sound;
For miles of primroses are seen in Spring,
Bees sweetly hum in blossoms of the sloe; 10
Summer and Autumn too have flowers to show
By millions; birds and insects on the wing
Fill the whole air with melody; and e’en
Keen Winter all adorns with silvery sheen.
George Markham Tweddell