From north and south the counties
With hills and splendour call,
But Cambridgeshire of fenlands
Is gentlest of them all.
Sweetness of cool gray beanfields;
May in the snow-white hedge,
And amber flame of sunsets
Against the land’s stark edge.
Open and green and golden
It spreads before the eyes,
With roads that call to follow,
White under quiet skies;
And under dreaming willows
The river winds and gleams,
Nor speaks above a whisper
For fear to break their dreams....
It winds about the township
Of gracious walls and towers,
Within whose shade is healing,
Whose years are young as hours—
Oh, here’s the Gentle County,
The land of hearts’ release,
In Cambridgeshire of fenlands,
Upon whose fields be peace....