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THE HEART OF ENGLAND




THE HEART OF ENGLAND SERIES


This Series opens with a new work by Mr. EDWARD THOMAS, that curious
and enthusiastic explorer of the English Countryside, whose prose
style gives him a claim to be regarded as the successor, as he is the
biographer, of Richard Jefferies. The Series includes a new edition
of Mr. THOMAS’S other work, “The Heart of England,” and Mr. HILAIRE
BELLOC’S “The Historic Thames.” These two volumes were originally
issued in limited editions at one Guinea net per volume.


 =THE SOUTH COUNTRY.= By EDWARD THOMAS. Small crown 8vo. =3s. 6d.= net.

Mr. Thomas in this new book gives his impressions of a year’s
wanderings afoot as the seasons change through Kent, Sussex, Hampshire,
Wiltshire and Cornwall. It is a prose-poem of the most beautiful
counties in England.


 THE HEART OF ENGLAND. By EDWARD THOMAS. Small crown 8vo. =3s. 6d.= net.


 THE HISTORIC THAMES. By HILAIRE BELLOC, M.P. =3s. 6d.= net.


_Prospectus of above Books sent post free on application._

  J. M. DENT & CO.
  29-30, BEDFORD STREET, LONDON, W.C.




[Illustration]




[Illustration:

  THE HEART OF
  ENGLAND

  _by Edward Thomas_

  LONDON
  _J. M. DENT & CO._

  _1909_
]




_All rights reserved_




  TO
  HENRY W. NEVINSON




CONTENTS


  PART I.
  LEAVING TOWN

  CHAP.                                             PAGE
  I. LEAVING TOWN                                      1

  PART II
  THE LOWLAND
  II. FAUNUS                                          21
  III. NOT HERE, O APOLLO!                            26
  IV. WALKING WITH GOOD COMPANY                       28
  V. NO MAN’S GARDEN                                  31
  VI. MARCH DOUBTS                                    37
  VII. A DECORATED CHURCH                             41
  VIII. GARLAND DAY                                   44
  IX. AN OLD WOOD                                     49
  X. IN A FARMYARD                                    52
  XI. MEADOWLAND                                      56
  XII. AN OLD FARM                                    64
  XIII. POPPIES                                       69
  XIV. AUGUST                                         73
  XV. OLD-FASHIONED TIMES                             77
  XVI. ONE GREEN FIELD                                83
  XVII. THE BROOK                                     88
  XVIII. AN AUTUMN GARDEN                             93
  XIX. THE WALNUT TREE                                97
  XX. A GOLDEN AGE                                   100
  XXI. THE VILLAGE                                   103
  XXII. ST. MARTIN’S SUMMER                          118
  XXIII. THE PRIDE OF THE MORNING                    121
  XXIV. THE METAMORPHOSIS                            124
  XXV. EARTH CHILDREN                                126
  XXVI. NOVEMBER RAIN                                138
  XXVII. JANUARY SUNSHINE                            140
  XXVIII. THE BARGE                                  143
  XXIX. A WINTER MORNING                             146

  PART III
  THE UPLAND
  XXX. CHERRY BLOSSOM                                153
  XXXI. THE FOX HUNT                                 155
  XXXII. APPLE BLOSSOM                               166
  XXXIII. A LITTLE BEFORE HARVEST                    170
  XXXIV. AUTUMN BELLS                                174
  XXXV. SUNDAY                                       176

  PART IV.
  THE MOUNTAINS
  XXXVI. THE FIRST DAFFODILS                         183
  XXXVII. THE MIRROR                                 192
  XXXVIII. UNDER THE MOOR                            198
  XXXIX. A HARVEST MOON                              202
  XL. THE INN                                        205

  PART V
  THE SEA
  XLI. A MARCH HAUL                                  211
  XLII. FISHING BOATS                                214
  XLIII. CLOUDS OVER THE SEA                         216
  XLIV. THE MARSH                                    220
  XLV. ONE SAIL AT SEA                               223
  XLVI. THE CASTLE OF CARBONEK                       225




NOTE


Of the five songs printed at the end of this book, only “La Fille du
Roi” has been published before, I believe. “The Holm Bank Hunting Song”
and “Poor Old Horse” were sung by competitors for folk-song prizes
at the annual Westmoreland Musical Festival, and I owe them to the
kindness of Mr. George Rathbone. “The Mowing Song” and “Mary, come into
the Field,” were given to me by friends.

  EDWARD THOMAS.




PART I

LEAVING TOWN




THE HEART OF ENGLAND




CHAPTER I

LEAVING TOWN


Sunday afternoon had perfected the silence of the suburban street.
Every one had gone into his house to tea; none had yet started for
church or promenade; the street was empty, except for a white pigeon
that pecked idly in the middle of the road and once leaned upon one
wing, raised the other so as to expose her tender side and took the
rain deliciously; so calm and unmolested was the hour.

The houses were in unbroken rows and arranged in pairs, of which one
had a bay window on the ground floor and one had not. Some had laurels
in front; some had names. But they were so much alike that the street
resembled a great storehouse where yards of goods, all of one pattern,
are exposed, all with that painful lack of character that makes us wish
to rescue one and take it away and wear it, and soil it, and humanise
it rapidly.

Soon a boy of nine years old came out of one house and stood at the
gate. At first he moved briskly and looked in every direction as if
expecting to see some one whom he knew; but in a little while he paused
and merely looked towards the pigeon, so fixedly that perhaps he
saw it not. The calm silenced him, took him into its bosom, yet also
depressed him. Had he dared, he would have shouted or run; he would
have welcomed the sound of a piano, of a dog barking, of a starling
coldly piping. While he still paused an old man rounded the corner of
the street and came down in the roadway towards him.

The old man was small and straight, and to his thin figure the remains
of a long black coat and grey trousers adhered with singular grace.
You could not say that he was well dressed, but rather that he was in
the penultimate stage of a transformation like Dryope’s or Daphne’s,
which his pale face had not altogether escaped. His neglected body
seemed to have grown this grey rind that flapped like birch bark. Had
he been born in it the clothing could not have been more apt.