1816
                           FOR THERE'S BISHOP'S TEIGN
                                 by John Keats

                      I.

            For there's Bishop's teign
            And King's teign
        And Coomb at the clear Teign head-
            Where close by the stream
            You may have your cream
        All spread upon barley bread.

                     II.

            There's Arch Brook
            And there's Larch Brook
        Both turning many a mill,
            And cooling the drouth
            Of the salmon's mouth
        And fattening his silver gill.

                    III.

            There is Wild Wood,
            A mild hood
        To the sheep on the lea o' the down,
            Where the golden furze,
            With its green, thin spurs,
        Doth catch at the maiden's gown.

                     IV.

            There is Newton Marsh
            With its spear grass harsh-
        A pleasant summer level
            Where the maidens sweet
            Of the Market Street
        Do meet in the dusk to revel.

                      V.

            There's the Barton rich
            With dyke and ditch
        And hedge for the thrush to live in,
            And the hollow tree
            For the buzzing bee
        And a bank for the wasp to hive in.

                     VI.

            And O, and
            The daisies blow
        And the primroses are waken'd,
            And violets white
            Sit in silver plight,
        And the green bud's as long as the spike end.

                    VII.

            Then who would go
            Into dark Soho
        And chatter with dack'd-hair'd critics,
            When he can stay
            For the new-mown hay
        And startle the dappled prickets?

                        THE END
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