THE CHERWELL WATERLILY by FREDERICK WILLIAM FABER

There is a well, a willow-shaded spot,
Cool in a noon-tide gleam,
With rushes nodding in the little stream,
And blue forget-me-not

Set in thick tufts along the bushy marge
With big bright eyes of gold;
And glorious water plants like fans unfold,
Their blossoms strange and large.

That wondering boy, young Hylas, did not find
Beauties so rich and rare,
Where swallow-wort and bright maiden's hair
And dog-grass richly twined.

A sloping bank ran round it like a crown,
Whereon a purple cloud
Of dark wild hyacinths, a fairy crowd
Had settled softly down.

And dreaming sounds of never-ending bells,
From Oxford's holy towers
Came down the stream, and went among the flowers,
And died in little swells.

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