Some day, I think, there will be people enough In Froxfield to pick all the blackberries Out of the hedges of Green Lane, the straight...

It was upon a July evening. At a stile I stood, looking along a path Over the country by a second Spring Drenched perfect green again....

'Is this the road that climbs above and bends Round what was once a chalk-pit: now it is By accident an amphitheatre. Some ash trees...