The road to Stonor

How charming now the Chilterns stand, replete
In summer leaf beneath a clearing sky.
The thunderstorm has left behind its mark
Along the twisting, lifting lanes tight hemmed
By fresh-cropped hedges that direct the eye
To vistas far-flung on the the sun-lit hills
Where field and park-land draw the wheeling  kites
To seek not beauty, but continued life,
While on the ground a pheasant proudly struts,
His consort, more demure, some way behind.

The road proceeds, enticing with its bends,
Showing now a tiny hamlet nestled
From the the winter winds, now an ample fold
Of land in which a gracious mansion rests,
Home to a noble family of firm
Belief  and domiciled for centuries long
That span good times, and those of darker cast
When prejudice maintained its ugly grasp
Until enlightenment undid its clasp.