The Way Through the Woods - They shut the road through the woods Seventy years ago. Weather and rain have undone it again, And now you would never know There was once a road through the woods Before they planted the trees.

There was once a road through the woods. Yet, if you enter the woods Of a summer evening late, When the night-air cools on the trout-ringed pools Where the otter whistles his mate,

There was once a road through the woods. Yet, if you enter the woods Of a summer evening late, When the night-air cools on the trout-ringed pools Where the otter whistles his mate. (They fear not men in the woods, Because they see so few) You will hear the beat of a horse's feet, And the swish of a skirt in the dew, Steadily cantering through

The Way Through The Woods. They shut the road through the woods Seventy years ago. Weather and rain have undone it again, And now you would never know There was once a road through the woods Before they planted the trees. It is …

The disappearance of the road through the woods, the hidden path buried beneath the growth of trees and the relentless forces of weather and rain, serves as a reminder of the transient nature of human existence.

Sep 22, 2020 · Question 9: How would you describe the woods in your own words? Answer: In the woods, trees have been planted and grown up around the path. The then road is covered with coppice, heath and anemones. This is an area of uncultivated land. During evenings, the cold wind blows through the woods.

Only the keeper sees That, where the ring-dove broods, And the badgers roll at ease, There was once a road through the woods. Yet, if you enter the woods Of a summer evening late, When the night-air cools on the trout-ringed pools Where the otter whistles his mate, (They fear not men in the woods, Because they see so few.)

You will hear the beat of a horse’s feet, And the swish of a skirt in the dew, Steadily cantering through The misty solitudes, As though they perfectly knew The old lost road through the woods. But there is no road through the woods.

There was once a path through the woods Before they planted the trees: It is underneath the coppice and heath, And the thin anemones. Only the keeper sees That, where the ring-dove broods And the badgers roll at ease, There was once a road through the woods. Yet, if you enter the woods Of a summer evening late,

There was once a road through the woods. Yet, if you enter the woods Of a summer evening late, When the night-air cools on the trout-ringed pools Where the otter whistles his mate, (They fear not men in the woods, Because they see so few) You will hear the beat of a horse’s feet And the swish of a skirt in the dew, Steadily cantering through