On the great streams the ships may go About men's business to and fro. But I, the egg-shell pinnace, sleep On crystal waters ankle-deep: I, whose diminutive design, Of sweeter cedar, pithier pine, Is fashioned on so frail a mould, A hand may launch, a hand withhold: I, rather, with the leaping trout Wind, among lilies, in and out; I, the unnamed, inviolate, Green, rustic rivers, navigate; My dipping paddle scarcely shakes The berry in the bramble-brakes; Still forth on my green way I wend Beside the cottage garden-end; And by the nested angler fare, And take the lovers unaware. By willow wood and water-wheel Speedily fleets my touching keel; By all retired and shady spots Where prosper dim forget-me-nots; By meadows where at afternoon The growing maidens troop in June To loose their girdles on the grass. Ah! speedier than before the glass The backward toilet goes; and swift As swallows quiver, robe and shift And the rough country stockings lie Around each young divinity. When, following the recondite brook, Sudden upon this scene I look, And light with unfamiliar face On chaste Diana's bathing-place, Loud ring the hills about and all The shallows are abandoned.... | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION; A POEM. ENLARGED VERSION: BOOK 3 by MARK AKENSIDE ROMAIOS by WILLAM GAY BALLANTINE ZERO by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN A VALENTINE FOR HARRY CROSBY by KAY BOYLE THE HAPPY HOUR by MARY FRANCES MARSHALL BUTTS A SOLILOQUY ON READING 'A DISPUTE ABOUT FAITH AND WORKS' by JOHN BYROM TALES OF THE HALL: BOOK 10. THE OLD BACHELOR by GEORGE CRABBE |