 | Madrigals, songs and sonnets |  |
166
XVI. THE RIVER PENPONT.
I sit so still upon the river-brink;The trout float underneath me leisurely;
The great green dragon-flies swoop down to drink,
And plume their gauze wings on the ferns hard by;
Weird shadowy beeches towards each other bend
Across the bosom of the twinkling stream,
Whence honeysuckle-garlands faintly send
Rich perfume felt like music in a dream;
The sunlight through the canopy of leaves
In starry fretwork gilds the watery floor:
In all this summer weather nothing grieves,
Except the stream that murmurs to the moor,—
Except the stream and I, who cannot borrow,
Light from my sweet Love's eyes to banish sorrow.
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