Poems

Ah, leave the hills of Arcady,Thy satyrs and their wanton play,This modern world hath need of thee.
This is the land where libertyLit grave-browed Milton on his way,This modern world hath need of thee!
A land of ancient chivalryWhere gentle Sidney saw the day,Ah, leave the hills of Arcady!
Then blow some trumpet loud and free,And give thine oaten pipe away,Ah, leave the hills of Arcady!This modern world hath need of thee!