In the tiny English village of Heyshott,
by Virginia Welch
The weary traveler can find peace and rest.
Elizabethan cottages the landscape dot
Guarding against changes, preserving the best. The meadowlarks sing; the snapdragons snap;
The violets and buttercups secretly converse;
In simple English gardens that paint pictures
Which inspire and enhance great English verse. The wild strawberries know how superior they are.
Kissed by the sun, these berries so coy,
Have a flavor which excels all others by far.
Blessed are they who may taste and enjoy. Such beautiful memories can be stored away
To come back to cheer on some dreary day.