 | The Poems of A. C. Benson |  |
157
CHALVEY
O Chalvey stream, dear Chalvey stream,
There are not many singers
Would think you worth a minstrel's dream,
And very weary fingers.
I sing your praises undeterred;—
In days when sight was sharper,
Another Jordan was preferred
To Abana and Pharpar.
There are not many singers
Would think you worth a minstrel's dream,
And very weary fingers.
I sing your praises undeterred;—
In days when sight was sharper,
Another Jordan was preferred
To Abana and Pharpar.
A mile across the level land
A pool is set with willows,
You toss a cone of restless sand,
And leap in tiny billows.
So cool and calm, from hidden springs,
Out of the dark that bound you,
You join a hundred living things,
Sweet sighs, sweet scents around you.
A pool is set with willows,
You toss a cone of restless sand,
And leap in tiny billows.
So cool and calm, from hidden springs,
Out of the dark that bound you,
You join a hundred living things,
Sweet sighs, sweet scents around you.
You ripple on 'neath summer skies,
With grassy banks to guide you,
Where to and fro swift laughter flies
Of boys that play beside you.
And all at once, before you know,
Beneath the bridge you shiver,
You thread the stately pool, and lo!
You topple in the river.
With grassy banks to guide you,
Where to and fro swift laughter flies
Of boys that play beside you.
158
Beneath the bridge you shiver,
You thread the stately pool, and lo!
You topple in the river.
By weir and lock, by bridge and mill,
You roll and roar and rumble,
And fouler things and fouler still
Within your eddies tumble,
And soon beneath a smoky pall
The city hums about you,
And churned by iron wheels you fall
In tides that toss and flout you.
You roll and roar and rumble,
And fouler things and fouler still
Within your eddies tumble,
And soon beneath a smoky pall
The city hums about you,
And churned by iron wheels you fall
In tides that toss and flout you.
Then waking after fevered days,
You see, beyond the shipping,
The shadowy headland through the haze,
The red buoy dipping, dipping;
The air intoxicates like wine,
And in the merry weather,
The flying sail, the hissing brine
Keep carnival together.
You see, beyond the shipping,
The shadowy headland through the haze,
The red buoy dipping, dipping;
The air intoxicates like wine,
And in the merry weather,
The flying sail, the hissing brine
Keep carnival together.
Oh, in that larger place, amid
The ecstasy of motion,
When you are free and fearless, hid
Within the leaping ocean,
When fond constraint to freedom yields,
With all the world before you,
Forget not the familiar fields,
The quiet source that bore you.
The ecstasy of motion,
When you are free and fearless, hid
Within the leaping ocean,
When fond constraint to freedom yields,
With all the world before you,
Forget not the familiar fields,
The quiet source that bore you.
159
O Chalvey stream, dear Chalvey stream,
Flow onward unabated,
What though to careless eyes you seem
A little overrated.
I'm not ashamed to call you friend,
To own our fond relations,
Like all things mortal you depend
On your associations.
Flow onward unabated,
What though to careless eyes you seem
A little overrated.
I'm not ashamed to call you friend,
To own our fond relations,
Like all things mortal you depend
On your associations.
| The Poems of A. C. Benson | |