In Memoriam, Izaak Walton, Obiit. 15th December, 1683 Twelve Sonnets and an Epilogue, By T. Westwood |
 |
|
| I. |
| II. | II.
|
 |
 | In Memoriam, Izaak Walton, Obiit. 15th December, 1683 |  |
II.
[So Fine-ear, stooping with a stedfast will]
So Fine-ear, stooping with a stedfast will,Above thy mouldering tomb, in summer-time,
Hears still what seems a ripple or a rhyme,
Unsilenced by the centuries—hears still,
Through chink and cleft, a little babbling rill—
Then quaint discourse—Piscator's homily,
The voice we honour—Auceps' grave reply—
Venator's jest—And presently a thrill
Of music, joyous, without fret or jar—
“Come live with me and be my love”—and near,
The nightingale's sweet cadence, full and clear,
Or bay of otter-hounds from fields afar.
Old life, old sport of Lea-side and of Dove—
The life we cherish and the sport we love.
| In Memoriam, Izaak Walton, Obiit. 15th December, 1683 | |