Classic and Contemporary Poetry
LUGGIE, PAST AND PRESENT, by JANET HAMILTON Poet's Biography First Line: I have seen thy crystal waters Last Line: Night and day is running ever. Alternate Author Name(s): Hamilton, Janet Thompson Subject(s): Brooks; Nature; Streams; Creeks | ||||||||
I HAVE seen thy crystal waters Mirror Beauty's sportive daughters; Seen the village maiden there Lave her brow and braid her hair Wade, till in the limpid pool Her snowy feet shone pure and cool. Peering through a clump of rushes, 'Neath the overhanging bushes, That o'er the stream their shadows flung, The water-hen led out her young The wildest, nimblest things alive How they swim, and wheel, and dive, Slightest stir or whisper near Quick as light they disappear! Cleaving swift the mimic tide, Shoals of minnows dart and glide. Patient on the pebbly strand See the watchful urchin stand Wand, and string, and crooked pin, How he hauls the "baggies" in! Till some imp, his pleasure dashing, Up the stream comes singing, plashing Flies the game, the sport is o'er The twain together leave the shore. Tinkling, gushing, singing stream, On thy banks I wont to dream; To thy lulling music listening, As I strayed my glad eyes glistening With sweet tears. Then onward still, Down the stream below the mill, To the lone and lovely dell Where the ringing echoes swell, Where in robes of richest hue, Pink and purple, gold and blue, Smiling Flora reigns, and sheds On her children's jewelled heads The dewy fragrance, fresh and sweet, That ever here the senses greet. Straying through each sylvan nook, With enraptured gaze I look On the fair illumined page Nature paints for youth and age; Now that page is blurred and soiled Nature of her charms despoiled. Now, ye twittering, warbling things All that coos, or chirps, or sings Fly, oh fly, ye may not dwell In the Luggie's lovely dell! The linnet and the finch again, Piping blackbird's mellow strain, We hear notand the vesper thrush, His small flirtations in the bush Revealing with a gush of song, May not here his stay prolong. Nests are gone from brake and bush; Down the dell with whoop and rush, Sooty imps from underground Plunder, trample all around. Flora mourns her children slain; For their lives she sued in vain Primrose and the sweet blue bell Lie murdered in the lonely dell; And ragged robin's pinky hood Gleams no more within the wood. Why, you ask, does Nature fail? Lo! the causethe rail, the rail! Luggie, by thy turbid stream Never more shall poet dream Never village maiden there Lave her brow and braid her hair Sportive youth his harmless pranks Plays not on the cinder banks That rise around thy fetid stream. Where fire, and flame, and rushing steam Burn, and blaze, and scream for aye. There they know no Sabbath day, And the fiery, molten river Night and day is running ever. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOWN THE BROOK by ROBERT FROST A CLEARING BY A STREAM by ALICIA SUSKIN OSTRIKER STREAM by ALICIA SUSKIN OSTRIKER THE ASPEN AND THE STREAM by RICHARD WILBUR WEST RUNNING BROOK by ROBERT FROST BIRCH STREAM by ANNA BOYNTON AVERILL THE VALLEY BROOK by JOHN HOWARD BRYANT A BALLAD FOUNDED ON A REAL INCIDENT WHICH OCCURED IN HIGH LIFE by JANET HAMILTON |
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