By Andrew Thornton-Norris
Blessed are the moors and the myriad watercourses of this land,
For they feed the roots of the forests.
Holy are the brave shoulders of the downs
For they lift us up to heaven, and closeness to Eternity.
Sainted are the mothers and daughters of the towns
For they give the gift of Joy in childhood.
Hallowed are the toilers for they create subsistence and
Provide all with leisure with which to contemplate majesty.
Now is the time for recognition to be expressed
That all is not money, existence and law
That Eternals graze alongside us,
That tomorrow is a time
When the good day is done
And the next good day is begun.
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