I see the world through the eyes of English.
My colours are green and red and blue.
And do they mean the same to you?
My green is the May grass in the field
Near the river,
And yours is the palm by the beach
Or the shallow sea that covers
The warm sand in the morning.
You see ‘verde’, maybe,
But whatever it is that you have seen,
It’s not the thing I know as green.
My hot and cold are on Somerset hills,
When the warm air comes in June
From the Channel with the seagulls,
Or when the east wind blows
On a February dawn
And plays havoc with the frozen grass.
The benchmarks in this world we share,
And the side of the fence we happen to be,
They all depend on where we grew.
For all we see, we learn each name.
We use the words that fit our world,
And other worlds are not the same.