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richard mitchley - edith nesbit - hop picking lyrics

ah me, how pleasant to go down
from the forlorn and faded town
to kentish wood and fold and lane
and breathe god’s blessed air again;
where glorious yellow corn+fields blaze
and nuts hang over woodland ways

to pick the sweet keen+scented hops
(see from each pole a dream+wreath drops)
to toil all day in pure clear air
laughter and sunshine everywhere++
with reddening woods and sweet wet soil
and well+earned rest and honest toil

where do we fly, under deep dark sky?
over the moors we go
over the pool where quiet and cool
bulrush and sedges grow++
and what was the loveliest thing we met?
ah++we forget!

we remember though all the firelit glow
of a great hearth’s gleam and glare
and we looked for a sp+ce at each happy face
and the love that was written there
and that, of all we have looked on yet++
we least forget!
oh what a day! all yellow and gray
and so dark, so dreary, so foggy and thick
that if i should meet
in the street
my sweet++
i might pass her by!
risk that? not i!
take me home out of danger then! quick, feet, quick

not summer’s crown of scent the red rose weaves
nor hawth+rn blossom over bloom+strewn grass
nor violet’s whisper when the children pass
nor lilac perfume in the soft may eves
nor new+mown hay, crisp scent of yellow sheaves
nor any scent that spring+time can amass
and summer squander, such a magic has
as scent of fresh wet earth and fallen leaves

for sometimes lovers in november days
when earth is grieving for the vanished sun
have trod dead leaves in chill and wintry ways
and kissed and dreamed eternal summer won;
look back, look back! through memories’ deepening haze
see++two who dreamed that dream, and you were one

- richard mitchley lyrics

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