Written by Haire Belloc, this poem is about his beloved Sussex. It reminds me of Peshawar, the Northren Areas, Islamabad, Pindi and every other city and corner of Pakistan.
When I am living in the Midlands
That are sodden and unkind,
I light my lamp in the evening:
My work is left behind;
And the great hills of the South Country
Come back into my mind.
The great hills of the South Country
They stand along the sea;
And it’s there walking in the high woods
That I could wish to be,
And the men that were boys when I was a boy
Walking along with me.
The men that live in North England
I saw them for a day:
Their hearts are set upon the waste fells,
Their skies are fast and grey;
From their castle-walls a man may see
The mountains far away.
The men that live in West England
They see the Severn strong,
A-rolling on rough water brown
Light aspen leaves along.
They have the secret of the Rocks,
And the oldest kind of song.
But the men that live in the South Country
Are the kindest and most wise,
They get their laughter from the loud surf,
And the faith in their happy eyes
Comes surely from our Sister the Spring
When over the sea she flies;
The violets suddenly bloom at her feet,
She blesses us with surprise.
I never get between the pines
But I smell the Sussex air;
Nor I never come on a belt of sand
But my home is there.
And along the sky the line of the Downs
So noble and so bare.
A lost thing could I never find,
Nor a broken thing mend:
And I fear I shall be all alone
When I get towards the end.
Who will there be to comfort me
Or who will be my friend?
I will gather and carefully make my friends
Of the men of the Sussex Weald;
They watch the stars from silent folds,
They stiffly plough the field.
By them and the God of the South Country
My poor soul shall be healed.
If I ever become a rich man,
Or if ever I grow to be old,
I will build a house
with deep thatch
To shelter me from the cold,
And there shall the Sussex songs be sung
And the story of Sussex told.
I will hold my house in the high wood
Within a walk of the sea,
And the men that were boys when I was a boy
Shall sit and drink with me.
The line ‘and the men that were boys when I was a boy‘, is my favourite line from the poem. Its such a strange feeling to leave one’s country when one is a ‘boy’ and returns only after becoming a (self-proclaimed) ‘man’… The lines:
“If I ever become a rich man,
Or if ever I grow to be old,
I will build a house“
remind of an uncle who plans to live in village after he retires from his job (a posh job, if that would be a correct term). Reminds me of another uncle who lives in village since almost always, is a lawyer and is famous for representing the impoverished ones in local law courts free of cost…
Life can be so simple at times… for atleast the some of the lucky ones amongst us…
Filed under: Others, Philosophy & Simplosofy, Poems, Random Ramblings , Life, Village, Hilaire Belloc, The South Country, boy, manhood
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