Emer Bog (Hampshire)

[watervole]

 Oh, come with me and leave the dusty track,
   Seek out the old world mired in depths of time.
   Here, in the ancient places known to rhyme,
 Be still, seek peace and rest from life's attack.
 Here the moss in gentle mounds surrounds
   Each alder with a bridal bed of green,
   And in the subtle mires that lie between,
 Sweet grass as fine as maiden's hair is found.
 Dappled sunlight casts a springtime sheen,
   Where light as thistledown the catkins fell,
     And netted silver lace o'er mossy green.
 Tread softly least you wake the faerie queen,
   Who lies asleep in this enchanted dell,
     Her kingdom still by mortal man unseen.