Beechwoods At Knole

How do I love you, beech-trees, in the autumn, Your stone-grey columns a cathedral nave Processional above the earth's brown glory! I was a child, and I loved the knurly tangle Of roots that coiled above a scarp like serpents, Where I might hide my treasure with the squirrels. I was a child, and splashed my way in laughter Through drifts of leaves, where underfoot the beech-nuts Split with crisp crackle to my great rejoicing. Red are the beechen slopes below Shock Tavern, Red is the bracken on the sandy Furze-field, Red are the stags and hinds by Bo-Pit Meadows, The rutting stags that nightly through the beechwoods Bell out their challenge, carrying their antlers Proudly beneath the antlered autumn branches. I was a child, and heard the red deer's challenge Prowling and belling underneath my window, Never a cry so haughty or so mournful.