Ivor Gurney contrasts famous mountain scenery with the modest landscape he loves. He invites others to pursue their own grand peaks — Helvellyn, Plinlimmon, “English heights of bravery” — but he will climb his local hills above the Severn, the Malverns, and May Hill instead. There are no Everests here, nothing to astonish, yet the winding paths offer “all quiet heart’s delight.” The mood is tender and contented, rooted in affection for ordinary places. Frost whitens the roads in winter, summer turns them blinding with light, and every turn passes village, quarry, tavern, or old beacon tower. That last detail matters: the landscape may be small, but it carries deep memory and quiet history. Gurney suggests that love of a place doesn’t need drama; intimacy and familiarity are enough.
That County — Summary
Go up, go up your ways of varying love, Take each his darling path wherever lie The central fires of secret memory; Whether Helvellyn tower the lakes above; Or black Plinlimmon time and tempest prove; Or any English heights of bravery. I will go climb my little hills to see Severn, and Malverns, May Hill’s tiny grove. No Everest is here, no peaks of power Astonish men. But on the winding ways White in the frost-time, blinding in full June blaze, A man may take all quiet heart’s delight-- Village and quarry, taverns and many a tower That saw Armada beacons set alight.