Classic Poem

I know the hedge in Briar Lane
Is white with hawthorn snow again,
And scented in the summer rain.

I know that at this very hour
The lovely lilac is in flower;
Laburnum, too, a golden shower.

The Days pass—each a precious link
In summer's chain; and oh, to think
Of orchards dressed in white and pink.

The little lambs are out to play,
The countryside keeps holiday,
The birds have never been so gay.

Because the town is smoked and grey—
Good-bye! I cannot stay.