Enoch Powell: First Poems: XLVII) Oh sweet it is to see the sky

XLVII) Oh sweet it is to see the sky

Oh sweet it is to see the sky

Behind the yellow gorse,

And sweet it is to hear the cry

Of swallows in their course,

And sweet upon the windy lea

To shout and leap and run;

But this were sweeter far to me,

Neither to feel nor move nor be

Nor ever see the sun.