Ho! Green Fields And Running Brooks! Knotted Strings And Fishing-Hooks Of The Truant, Stealing Down Weedy Backways Of The Town. Where The Sunshine Overlooks, By Green Fields And Running Brooks, All Intruding Guests Of Chance With A Golden Tolerance, Cooing Doves, Or Pensive Pair Of Picnickers, Straying There - By Green Fields And Running Brooks, Sylvan Shades And Mossy Nooks! And - O Dreamer Of The Days, Murmurer Of Roundelays All Unsung Of Words Or Books, Sing Green Fields And Running Brooks!