The Fields Of Oxford

I had stayed too long, beside these fields,
Till roots of me were rooted with each tree;
Till I had got by heart the road's least whim,
And where the sun rose, it was east to me.

Those who must go can be too long in going;
Or, going, have it always in their view,
Beyond new spires, beyond all new direction,
The shadowed risings of the fields they knew.

How should I know, leaving it all behind,
That I would see forever, where I go,
The loved horizons of the fields of Oxford,
The one spot of earth that I shall know!