The freedom of the Downs

How shall I tell you of the freedom of the Downs?

You who love the dusty life and durance of great towns,

And think the only flowers that please embroider ladies' gowns,

How shall I tell you?

How shall I tell you of the Avon's sweeping flow

With the pollards like old henchmen in a sage and solemn row,

And the water-cuts that shine when thymy breezes blow?

How shall I tell you?