...of trees far away sends his soul back to the country that has lost him, and there ' the traveller, marvelling why, halts on the bridge to hearken how soft the poplars sigh,' not knowing that it is the lover himself who sighs in the trees all night. That is how the ghosts of...

...of trees far away sends his soul back to the country that has lost him, and there ' the traveller, marvelling why, halts on the bridge to hearken how soft the poplars sigh,' not knowing that it is the lover himself who sighs in the trees all night. That is how the ghosts of...

...of trees far away sends his soul back to the country that has lost him, and there ' the traveller, marvelling why, halts on the bridge to hearken how soft the poplars sigh,' not knowing that it is the lover himself who sighs in the trees all night. That is how the ghosts of...

...lay, And I stept out in flesh and bone Manful like the man of stone. LII FAR in a western brookland That bred me long ago The poplars stand and tremble...bridge to hearken How soft the poplars sigh. He hears : no more remembered In fields where I was known, Here I lie down in London And turn to rest alone....

...lay, And I stept out in flesh and bone Manful like the man of stone. LII FAK in a western brookland That bred me long ago The poplars stand and tremble...on the bridge to hearken How soft the poplars sigh, 79 He hears : long since forgotten In fields where I was known. Here I lie down in London And turn...

...lay, And I stept out in flesh and bone Manful like the man of stone. LII FAR in a western brookland That bred me long ago The poplars stand and tremble...windless night-time, The wanderer, marvelling why, He hears: no more remembered In fields where I was known, Here I lie down in London And turn to rest...

...between her spoken words slipping on her tongue a poem about Shropshire: "Far in a Western brookland That bred me long ago, The poplars stand and tremble By pools I used to know. There, by the starlit fences, The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering...

...home-country which can neither die nor be satisfied in any other place whatever : Far in a western brookland That bred me long ago The poplars stand and tremble By pools I used to know. * * * * There by the star-lit fences, The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering...

...lay, And I slept out in flesh and bune Manful like the man of stone. LII Far in a western brookland That bred me long ago The poplars stand and tremble...bridge to hearken How soft the poplars sigh. He hears : no more remembered In fields where I was known, Here I lie down in London And turn to rest alone....

...woodlands I will go To see the cherry hung with snow. FAR IN A WESTERN BROOKLAND FAR in a western brookland That bred me long ago The poplars Stand and tremble...know. There, in the windless night-time, The wanderer, marveling why, Halts on the bridge to hearken How soft the poplars sigh. He hears: long since forgotten...