Richard Henry Hengist Horne (1802–1884)

A Landscape in Berkshire

ABOVE yon sombre swell of land

Thou see’st the dawn’s grave orange hue,

With one pale streak like yellow sand,

And over that a vein of blue.

The air is cold above the woods;

All silent is the earth and sky,

Except with his own lonely moods

The blackbird holds a colloquy.

Over the broad hill creeps a beam,

Like hope that gilds a good man’s brow;

And now ascends the nostril-stream

Of stalwart horses come to plough.

Ye rigid Ploughmen, bear in mind

Your labour is for future hours:

Advance—spare not—nor look behind—

Plough deep and straight with all your powers!