Across the rolling Thames a seed, a form to rise on marshy mead. The strongest hope for joy and bliss, Forms swiftly so in thoughts so crisp. To which to lie to rest to dwell, To grow to play and live so well. Against these plains will walls rise out, to hold it firm a heart so stout. A lid a roof so high and fine, will keep it dry from rain and shine. Existing on a grassy green, with trees with birds and peace within. For this home of many, time will test, stays only a dream for all the rest.