 | By The Way |  |
6
ON A BLACKTHORN WALKING-STICK
Given to me at Bath by W. S. Landor
This which was once a budding wand
On hill-side or in shady glen,
Where waters murmur'd, far from men,
And fledgling thrush his lesson conn'd,
On hill-side or in shady glen,
Where waters murmur'd, far from men,
And fledgling thrush his lesson conn'd,
When cut and trimm'd, and coax'd to meet
The human grasp with easy crook,
In Landor's fingers twirl'd and shook
And bade his canine friend repeat
The human grasp with easy crook,
In Landor's fingers twirl'd and shook
And bade his canine friend repeat
Gay barks and gambols; whilst in town
Or field the sagely happy man
Enjoy'd as only poets can
His own wide thought o'er all things thrown,
Or field the sagely happy man
Enjoy'd as only poets can
His own wide thought o'er all things thrown,
Or teem'd the wealth of books and life
In frank discourse, where sudden jest
Awoke the echo from her nest,
And breathing images were rife.
In frank discourse, where sudden jest
Awoke the echo from her nest,
And breathing images were rife.
But now to me the stick descends,
Who love, at least, the wise and brave,
And proudly feel the hand that gave
Still clasp my slight hand as a friend's.
Who love, at least, the wise and brave,
And proudly feel the hand that gave
Still clasp my slight hand as a friend's.
January 18th, 1854.
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