I. OUR BERKSHIRE. 



Where rippling fields of wheat and rye 

 Along the level uplands lie, 

 And in the valley's cup is born 

 'Mid rustling green the tasselled corn; 

 Where ample meadows downward go 

 To meet the laughing brook below. 



Where stand apart the whispering woods, 

 Where noises are and solitudes, 

 Where birds repeat their careless lay 

 Thro' all the livelong summer day. 



Elaine Goodale, 



