pocket me a field
pocket me a field, with frost in a corner,
mole hills along one side
of day’s second quarter;
and here bid me abide
with days in my eyes and
the joys of winter, cold in surmise;
and i will surprise a cock pheasant
in rasp and in running,
the leaves all a flitter,
so very pleasant with frost all a glitter:
then turn me around and around
from the castle to the sea,
from the rivers to the sky
and then ask this of me,
was there ever such a day
as this set before thee?
go on, ask me again,
was there ever such a day
as this set before thee?
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