Chapter I: BE hopin’ you remember,

Now the Spring has come again, How we used to gather violets By the little church at Eastnor, For we were so happy then!

O my love, do you remember Kisses that you took and gave? There be violets now in plenty By the little church at Eastnor, But they’re growing on your grave.

VI

THE MALVERN HILLS

THE Malvern Hills be green some days, And some days purple-blue, There never was the like of them The whole of England through.

From Hanley straight into the Wells The road runs long and white, And there the hills they meet your gaze Against the evening light.

Against the evening light they stand, So proud, and dark, and old, The Raggedstone and Hollybush, And Worcester Beacon bold.

No matter where you chance to be, However far away, You’ll see the hills awaiting you At close of every day.

Oh! it’s a lovely sight to see The twilight stealing down Their steepish banks and little paths, Along to Malvern town.

And maybe on the Severn side, Hung low on Bredon’s mound, The big red harvest moon will rise, So lazy-like and round.

They talks a lot o’ foreign parts, Them as has seen them do, But give me Malvern Hills at dusk All green or purple-blue!

VII

THE FIRST CUCKOO

TO-DAY I heard the cuckoo call, Atop of Bredon Hill, I heard him near the blackthorn bush, And Oh! my heart stood still!

For it was just a year ago, That to my love I said, “When next we hear the cuckoo call, Then you and I will wed.”

My love and I we still be two, And will be, many Springs; I think the saddest sound on earth Is when the cuckoo sings.

VIII

DUSK IN THE LANE

COME, put yer little hand in mine, And let it be at rest, It minds me of a tired bird Within a warm brown nest; And bend that pretty head o’ your’n, And lay it on my breast.

The lambs they all be wearied out, I penned them in the fold; The lights along the Malvern Hills They shine like stars o’ gold; And yonder rises up the moon, All round, and big, and bold.

There’s not a single passer-by, Nor sound along the lane, And Oh! the earth be smelling sweet, Like meadows after rain. Then come a little closer, maid, And kiss me once again.

IX

THE MEETING-PLACE