The Child in the Orchard
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HE rolls in the orchard: he is stained with mossAnd with earth, the solitary old white horse.Where is his father and where is his motherAmong all the brown horses? Has he a brother?I know the swallow, the hawk, and the hern;But there are two million things for me to learn. "Who was the lady that rode the white horseWith rings and bells to Banbury Cross?Was there no other lady in England besideThat a nursery rhyme could take for a ride?The swift, the swallow, the hawk, and the hern.There are two million things for me to learn. "Was there a man once who straddled acrossThe back of the Westbury White HorseOver there on Salisbury Plain's green wall?Was he bound for Westbury, or had he a fall?The swift, the swallow, the hawk, and the hern.There are two million things for me to learn. "Out of all the white horses I know three,At the age of six; and it seems to meThere is so much to learn, for men,That I dare not go to bed again.The swift, the swallow, the hawk, and the hern.There are millions of things for me to learn."
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