only know that you may lie
Day-long and watch the Cambridge sky,
And, flower-lulled in sleepy grass,
Hear the cool lapse of hours pass,
Until the centuries blend and blur
In Grantchester, in Grantchester....
is there Beauty yet to find?
And Certainty? And Quiet kind?
Deep meadows yet, for to forget
The lies, and truths, and pain? ...oh! Yet
Stands the Church clock at ten to three?
And is there haney still for tea?
"The Old Vicarage, Grantchester" by Rupert Brooke