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| SWEET Taunton Dene! thy smiling fields | |
| Once more with merry accents ring; | |
| Once more reviving Nature yields | |
| Her tribute to the smiling spring. | |
| The small birds in the woodland sing, | 5 |
| The ploughman turns the kindly green, | |
| And Pleasure waves her resistless wing | |
| Among thy groves, sweet Taunton Dene. | |
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| But peace abides with Him alone | |
| Who rules with calm, resistless power; | 10 |
| Through all creation’s boundless zone, | |
| From rolling sphere to garden flower. | |
| Nor falls in spring the welcome shower | |
| Unwilled of Him, nor tempest blows, | |
| Nor wind within the fragrant bower | 15 |
| Can rend a leaf from summer rose. | |
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| Sweet Taunton Dene! O, long abide | |
| In thy fair vale delights like these! | |
| And long may Tone’s smooth waters glide | |
| By smiling cots and hearts at ease! | 20 |
| Be thine the joy of rustic peace, | |
| Each sound that haunts the woodland scene; | |
| And blithe beneath thy bowering trees | |
| The dance at eve, Sweet Taunton Dene! | |
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