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Ionica

By William Cory [i.e. Johnson]

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From Halsdon to Cheltenham.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


140

From Halsdon to Cheltenham.

TO TWO LITTLE LADIES.

Across three shires I stretch and lean,
To gaze beyond the hills that screen
The trustful eyes and gracious mien
Of unforgotten Geraldine.
Up Severn sea my fancy speedeth,
And past the springs of Thames it speedeth,
On to the brilliant town, which needeth,
Far less than I, the laugh of Edith.
Sad gales have changed my woodland scene
To russet-brown from gold and green;
Cold and forlorn like me hath been
The boat that carried Geraldine.

141

On silent paths the whistler weedeth,
And what his tune is no one heedeth;
On hay beneath the linhay feedeth
The ass that felt the hand of Edith.
Oh! cherished thought of Geraldine,
I'd rhyme till summer, if the Queen
Would blow her trumpets and proclaim
Fresh rhymes for that heroic name.
Oh, babbler! gay as river stickle,
Next year she'll be too old to tickle;
But while my Torridge flows I'll say
Blithe Edith liked me half a day!
1875.