'Twas A Midday

A Victorian poem of the countryside of England.

'Twas a midday, I went in a whisk, 
Upon the slades with nightingales,
And I flew above the moors brisk, 
Alongside those dampish swales.

With wrought folk of ranker ken, 
Amidst the next harvest now till'd,
With a tyke wean'd by a byre then, 
Seeking to reap crop within a field.

Whither, I wend oft thither at once, 
Upon a soothing loch and lofty knoll,
Within the lonely strath for the nonce, 
As I find myself in this unwitting stroll.

O'er the heathers blossoming anew,
Yonder glen of the winsome Sunday,  
In gleesome springs drench'd in dew,
With the fain children frolicking today.

Hence, a wealsome thede herried ere, 
Within the odd gleam glistening lowly,
Upon the cromlechs beyond the mere, 
That shelter the canty warths slowly.

O my belov'd hamlet that lieth nigh, 
Within a moorland thou art mine erd,
Behind the garths that make me sigh, 
Whilst the bustling birr is thus heard.