Beneath the ancient oaks, where shadows play,
The morning mist begins to rise and sway,
A symphony of dawn, the robins sing,
As sunlight dances on the dewy spring.

The rolling hills, a sea of emerald green,
Where wildflowers paint the vibrant scene,
A breeze that carries tales of yore,
Through fields and forests, to the shore.

The gentle streams that weave and wind,
Through valleys deep, a path they find,
Their waters clear, a mirror bright,
Reflecting skies of azure light.

In twilight’s glow, the world serene,
As stars emerge, a silver sheen,
The moonlight casts a tender veil,
On English nature’s timeless tale.