Greenwood

Within a greenewood ſweet of mirtle ſauor, when as the earth was with fayre flowers reuested, I ſaw a ſhepherd, with his Nymph that reſted, […]

Vnder the greene wood tree, / Who loues to lye with mee, / And turne his merrie Note, / Vnto the ſweet Birds throte: / Come hither, come hither, come hither: / Heere ſhall he ſee no enemie, / But Winter and rough Weather.

But Calipine, now being left alone / Under the greenewood’s ſide in ſorie plight, / Withouten armes or ſteede to ride upon, / Or houſe to hide his head from heaven’s ſpight, […]

We who walk the greenwood do many a wild deed, and the Lady Rowena’s deliverance may be received as an atonement.

The good green-wood! the good green-wood! / Where early violets spring, / Where 'mid the old oak's giant boughs / The merle and mavis sing, […] My dreams are of sweet music wild / Beneath the green-wood tree!

Warwickshire is, indeed, a county of Gospel Oaks, and many of these, like the others, are huge in growth and venerable in years. They formed the boundary lines or marks between adjoining parishes, and when the bounds were beaten the parson was wont to deliver his homily beneath the shady boughs. From this circumstance the trees have taken the name of “Gospel Oaks,” and though Time has somewhat thinned their number, there are many still existing, dotted about in various parts of this sequestered greenwood.

In a number of families, brothers joined opposite sides. Some fought on the communist side as guerrillas and assassinated their blood brothers who held jobs on village committees. Others who served the village militias shot and killed their siblings who came back from secret guerrilla bases in the greenwoods.

When they were young, he kissed her in the greenwood. When she brushes her fingers across her lips, she still remembers.