Patrick Regan has kindly shared the material from his George Heath site with readers of the Victorian Web, who may wish to consult the original.

A little while ago these meads were fair
And fresh, and flashing with a flood of green,
And infant flowers with windle spray between;
And gold-winged butterflies and bees were there,
And lisping winds went o'er them like a prayer,
      And all was gay as though the dearth had been;
      No shadow from the future marred the scene.
And now those very fields are crisp and bare,
Their glory severed, scorched, and withered dead,
      And gathered in the dust from whence it came
In tomb-like heaps, 'neath dusky thatch and shed;
      And all the world around lives on the same;
The sun shines brightly and the winds are rife;
But they are faded, shorn. And such is life.

Last modified 4 September 2002