Parliamentary Letters, and Other Poems By Q. in the Corner [i.e. N. T. H. Bayly] |
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Lines WRITTEN IN THE VALE OF LLANGOLLEN, IN WALES. |
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 | Parliamentary Letters, and Other Poems |  |
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Lines WRITTEN IN THE VALE OF LLANGOLLEN, IN WALES.
Sweet vale of Llangollen, I bid you adieu,
One moment I pause ere my course I pursue;
I fondly look back on the scenes I have pass'd,
And sigh when I think that this look is the last:
Farewell to the glens where the willow trees grow,
And shadow the waters that murmur below;
Farewell to the rills I at intervals see
'Midst the copsewood that fringes the banks of the Dee.
One moment I pause ere my course I pursue;
I fondly look back on the scenes I have pass'd,
And sigh when I think that this look is the last:
Farewell to the glens where the willow trees grow,
And shadow the waters that murmur below;
Farewell to the rills I at intervals see
'Midst the copsewood that fringes the banks of the Dee.
The river winds on with a surface so clear,
That through it the pebbles distinctly appear,
Except o'er the rock where the waterfall gushes,
And hurries in foam to its bed of green rushes;
Oh! this is the valley where lovers should rove,—
So lovely!—'twas form'd for the accents of love;
In a spot so delighful as this, not a word
But such as love dictates should ever be heard.
That through it the pebbles distinctly appear,
Except o'er the rock where the waterfall gushes,
And hurries in foam to its bed of green rushes;
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So lovely!—'twas form'd for the accents of love;
In a spot so delighful as this, not a word
But such as love dictates should ever be heard.
Sweet vale of Llangollen! though years pass away
Ere I look on the scenes that have charm'd me today;
Though the visions I cherish perhaps may be vain,
And I never may walk in thy valley again:
Wherever I rove—when the soft summer breeze
Shall fan me in groves less romantic than these;
I'll think of Llangollen, and wish I could see
The shadowy path on the banks of the Dee.
Ere I look on the scenes that have charm'd me today;
Though the visions I cherish perhaps may be vain,
And I never may walk in thy valley again:
Wherever I rove—when the soft summer breeze
Shall fan me in groves less romantic than these;
I'll think of Llangollen, and wish I could see
The shadowy path on the banks of the Dee.
| Parliamentary Letters, and Other Poems | |