OLD Broadbridge Pond, once on a time so deep, And full of water-lilies as could be, Is mudded now, in dull and deathly sleep; A gaping slough, a piteous injury. Hoarse brawling through some deep-wormed channels run Small streams dull as dead serpents in the sun, Roots writhed and sloven mottle everywhere And even the mid pool has no secret lair, And what seemed danger's very gateways lie Grey quagmire where the greedy moorhens ply. Not even eels could work to come agen. Poor roach and perch have perished, whose swift sides Made beautiful the bright green kingdom then, Nor any pleasure of the past abides. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A WINTER PIECE by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT GARDEN DAYS: 2. NEST EGGS by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON ABBEY ASAROE by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM PICTURES OF MOTHER by STELLA PFEIFFER BAISCH THE SIEGE OF VIRE by OLIVIER BASSELIN ICH DIEN by SUSIE MONTGOMERY BEST INLAND SEA by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE LOST LOVE by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE SONG, FR. A VISION OF GIOGIONE: GEMMA'S SONG ON THE WATER by GORDON BOTTOMLEY |