Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, LYNMOUTH, by ARTHUR WILLIAM EDGAR O'SHAUGHNESSY


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

LYNMOUTH, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: I have brought her I love to this sweet place
Last Line: My love, and keep her till I tell her all.
Alternate Author Name(s): O'shaughnessy, Arthur W. E.
Subject(s): Calm; Love; Lynmouth, England; Nature; Placid; Undisturbed; Tranquility


I have brought her I love to this sweet place,
Far away from the world of men and strife
That I may talk to her a charmèd space,
And make a long rich memory in my life.

Around my love and me the brooding hills,
Full of delicious murmurs, rise on high,
Closing upon this spot the summer fills,
And over which there rules the summer sky.

Behind us on the shore down there the sea
Roars roughly, like a fierce pursuing hound;
But all this hour is calm for her and me;
And now another hill shuts out the sound.

And now we breathe the odours of the glen,
And round about us are enchanted things;
The bird that hath blithe speech unknown to men,
The river keen, that hath a voice and sings.

The tree that dwells with one ecstatic thought,
Wider and fairer growing year by year,
The flower that flowereth and knoweth nought,
The bee that scents the flower and draweth near.

Our path is here; the rocky winding ledge
That sheer o'erhangs the rapid shouting stream
Now dips down smoothly to the quiet edge,
Where restful waters lie as in a dream.

The green exuberant branches overhead
Sport with the golden magic of the sun,
Here quite shut out, here like rare jewels shed
To fright the glittering lizards as they run.

And wonderful are all those mossy floors
Spread out beneath us in some pathless place,
Where the sun only reaches and outpours
His smile, where never a foot hath left a trace.

And there are perfect nooks that have been made
By the long-growing tree, through some chance turn
Its trunk took; since transformed with scent and shade,
And filled with all the glory of the fern.

And tender-tinted wood flowers are seen,
Clear starry blooms and bells of pensive blue,
That lead their delicate lives there in the green—
What were the world if it should lose their hue?

Even o'er the rough out-jutting stone that blocks
The narrow way, some cunning hand hath strewn
The moss in rich adornment, and the rocks
Down there seem written thick with many a rune.

And here, upon that stone, we rest awhile,
For we can see the lovely river's fall,
And wild and sweet the place is to beguile
My love, and keep her till I tell her all.





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