Acres Wild

<br>Ill make love to you<br><br>In all good places<br><br>Under black mountains<br><br>In open spaces.<br><br>By deep brown rivers<br><br>That slither darkly<br><br>Through far marches<br><br>Where the blue hare races.<br><br><br><br>Come with me to the winged isle ---<br><br>Northern fathers western child.<br><br>Where the dance of ages is playing still<br><br>Through far marches of acres wild.<br><br><br><br>Ill make love to you<br><br>In narrow side streets<br><br>With shuttered windows,<br><br>Crumbling chimneys.<br><br><br><br>Come with me to the weary town ---<br><br>Discos silent under tiles<br><br>That slide from roof-tops, scatter softly<br><br>On concrete marches of acres wild.<br><br><br><br>By red bricks pointed<br><br>With cement fingers<br><br>Flaking damply from sagging shoulders.<br><br><br><br>Come with me to the winged isle ---<br><br>Northern fathers western child.<br><br>Where the dance of ages is playing still<br><br>Through far marches of acres wild.