In East Anglia
Where the fields meet the sky,
Where ears of golden corn reach high
And winding tree-lined lanes pass by,
See the flatlands which stretch away
On a sunny, blue-sky day
With wind-blown, snow-white clouds at play.
Where sounds of Summer fill the air
And showers sprinkle water where
Young flowers flourish without care.
Where daylight overcomes the dark
To welcome the ascending lark
Whose song is England's living spark.
Country beauty fills all the view
With shades of green and golden hue
And scents of fragrant blossom too.
Old men sit here and reminisce
About those bygone days they miss,
Evenings spent in Bury and Diss.
Suffolk countryside lies at rest,
Of all East Anglia the best,
Constable-country treasure chest.
Copyright © Elisabeth Sheaffer