The forest sings on this fine morn, with barking dogs and hunting horns, as Richard King and all his men ride on through deep green Sherwood glen. The king spots movement in the wood, it’s Lincoln green—it’s Robin Hood! He lets a smile form ‘cross his face, but does not slacken his swift pace— and on through thickets rides he on, in search of doe, or stag, or fawn. Meanwhile, good Robin, full of grace, smiles ‘cross his own good-natured face, and disappears, does Robin Hood, into the green of kind Sherwood.
Posted on: Thu, 15 Aug 2013 05:07:43 +0000
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