Happy Valley." {66}

There is a valley green that lies
'Mid hills, the summer's bower.
The many coloured butterflies
Flutter from flower to flower.

And round one lush green side of it,
In gardened homes are laid,
With grief and care compassionate,
The people of the dead.

There all the voicing summer day
They sing, the happy rills.
No noisy sound awakes away
The echo of the hills.