Oh, to be in England
Now that April 's there,
And whoever wakes in England
Sees, some morning, unaware,
That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf
Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,
While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough
And after April, when May follows,
And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows!
Hark, where my blossom'd pear-tree in the hedge
Leans to the field and scatters on the clover
Blossoms and dewdrops—at the bent spray's edge—
That 's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over,
Lest you should think he never could recapture
The first fine careless rapture!
And though the fields look rough with hoary dew,
All will be gay when noontide wakes anew
The buttercups, the little children's dower
—Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower!
The title came to me as they do , phrases stored in the mind pop up from time to time and the story unfolded with items that had been been kept for just such an occasion. The three rabbits sitting on under tented canopy looking out on the world...
Oh to be in England...... the three sat high above the world a tented canopy above ,silently watching all, hearing nothing but birdsong, and whispering winds, gazing out on the green blanket of fields and pillowy tree, the warm sun on their faces....