Explore "The Ballad of the White Horse" by G.K. Chesterton on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Away in the waste of White Horse Down / An idle child alone / Played some small game through hours that pass, / And patiently would pluck the grass, / Patiently push the stone.
On the lean, green edge for ever, / Where the blank chalk touched the turf, / The child played on, alone, divine, / As a child plays on the last line / That sunders sand and surf.