This dark sunburn horseback brown,
His roll rock high road roaring down,
In coop and in comb the fleece of his foam,
Flutes in low to the lake falls home,
Oh when puff bonnet of fawn and froth,
Turns and twindles over the broth,
Of a cool so pitch black fail fruiting,
It rounds and rounds despair to drowning,
Degged with dew,
dappled with dew,
Are the groins of the braze that the brook treads through,
Weary heath packs, twitches of ferns,
And the bee bonnie ash that sits over the burn,
And what would the world be once bereft,
Of wet and of wildness,
let them be left,
Oh let them be left wildness and wet,
Long live the weeds and the wilderness yet.

Oh let them be left wildness and wet,
Long live the weeds and the wilderness yet.

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