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The hill pines were sighing

Language: English

The hill pines were sighing, 
O'ercast and chill was the day: 
A mist in the valley lying 
Blotted the pleasant May. 

But deep in the glen's bosom 
Summer slept in the fire 
Of the odorous gorse-blossom 
And the hot scent of the brier. 

A ribald cuckoo clamoured, 
And out of the copse the stroke 
Of the iron axe that hammered 
The iron heart of the oak.


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Submitted by Emily Ezust [Administrator]

Authorship


Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)


Text added to the website: 2009-01-29.
Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:01:33
Line count: 12
Word count: 66

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