The English Hedgerow
By lane and path the English hedgerow,
In which so many wild things grow,
For centuries has crossed the land –
A world of nature, close at hand.
In Spring the blackthorn's cloaked in snow,
Its pure white blossoms first to show.
Warm breezes waft them to and fro,
Then Autumn brings the jet black sloe.
The blackbird, chaffinch, dunnock, wren,
Oft hidden from the sight of men,
All prosper in this habitat,
So suited to its purpose, that
A bountiful harvest supplies their needs,
With insects, hips, haws, sweet berries and seeds.
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