 | Sonnets of the Wingless Hours |  |
13
RIVER BABBLE.
II.
And yet I think—if ever years awoke
My limbs to motion, so that I could stand
Again beside a river, rod in hand,
As Evening spreads his solitary cloak—
My limbs to motion, so that I could stand
Again beside a river, rod in hand,
As Evening spreads his solitary cloak—
That I would leave the little speckled folk
Their happy life—their marvellous command
Of stream's wild ways—and break the cruel wand,
To let them cleave the current at a stroke,
Their happy life—their marvellous command
Of stream's wild ways—and break the cruel wand,
To let them cleave the current at a stroke,
As I myself once could.—Oh, it were sweet
To ride the running ripple of the wave
As long ago, when wanes the long day's heat;
To ride the running ripple of the wave
As long ago, when wanes the long day's heat;
Or search, in daring headers, what gems pave
The river bed, until the bold hands meet,
In depths of beryl, what the trick'd eyes crave
The river bed, until the bold hands meet,
In depths of beryl, what the trick'd eyes crave
| Sonnets of the Wingless Hours | |