I go through the fields of blue water
On the South road of the sea.
High to North the East-Country
Holds her green fields to me--
For she that I gave over,
Gives not over me.
Last night I lay at Good Easter
Under a hedge I knew,
Last night beyond High Easter
I trod the May-floors blue--
Tilt from the sea the sun came
Bidding me wake and rue.
Roding (that names eight churches)--
Banks with the paigles dight--
Chelmer whose mill and willows
Keep one red tower in sight--
Under the Southern Cross run
Beside the ship to-night.
Ah! I may not seek back now,
Neither be turned nor stayed.
Yet should I live, I'd seek her,
Once that my vows are paid!
And should I die I'd haunt her--
I being what God made!
England has greater counties--
Their peace to hers is small.
{49}
Low hills, rich fields, calm rivers,
In Essex seek them all,--
Essex, where I that found them
Found to lose them all!
_Arthur Shearly Cripps._