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ON LEAVING PENCARROW.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
expand sectionII. 


78

ON LEAVING PENCARROW.

Cunning Camel! I've a notion
Wherefore thou art ever winding
As if to the thirsty ocean
Thou had'st failed a channel finding.
Most mysteriously meand'ring,
'Stead of flying like an arrow
Straight a-head, thou keepest wand'ring
Round and round about Pencarrow!
'Midst its groves and moorlands doubling,
Like a hunted hare zig-zagging.
Rapidly o'er rocks now bubbling,
Lazily in pools now lagging;
In the deepest bottoms hiding,
Struggling through the gorges narrow,
Leaping, dashing, creeping, gliding
Anywhere save from Pencarrow!
Who can wonder, “crooked river,”
Once that thou hast found thy way in,
Thou should'st use thy best endeavour
Such a paradise to stay in?

79

Surely none, who like me quitting,
Envy e'en yon tiny sparrow
On the window sill there sitting,
Not forced to fly from sweet Pencarrow!
Farewell! farewell! thou stream romantic,
Reluctantly the law fulfilling,
Which bids thee to the wide Atlantic,
Conduct thy waves howe'er unwilling.
Adieu, Tintagel! Hantizautic,
Danish fort and British barrow,
Crabs' pool, Pentire, and nearly frantic,
I finish with—Adieu, Pencarrow!