England Hold The Ones Who Wander

You left your coat beside the door while rain wrote silver on the glass.
The old church clock was keeping score of every quiet hour that passed.
Beyond the hedges, fields ran wide.
A rook crossed over the morning tide.
England, hold the ones who wander.
Keep a place beside the fire.
Through the green and gray of distance, you are still the heart's desire.
From the chalk cliffs to the orchard, from the moorland to the sea.