WHERE the bulrushes grow ranker (Oh, the long green spears a-gleam!) There the punt shall rock at anchor In the stream; By the weir's cool curve of thunder, By the stones where wagtails plunder Foolish daddy-long-leg flies, And the strings of rainbow bubbles in a rhapsody arise! Hours may pass and hours go fleeting, You shall heed them not, but stay Lost to them, and all the sweeting Of the may; For beneath the swelling current Where the midge-cloud hangs susurrant, And the sweeping swallows go, Lives most prodigious monster, lurking learnedly and low! No! I've never really seen him, But the boatman tells a tale Of a something ("must 'a' been 'im") Like a whale, On the shelving shallow showing "Where them kingcups is a-growing," Only just the other night, And the frightened fry went leaping from the Presence left and right! But a crafty old curmudgeon He must be, for ne'er a fin Does he move for any gudgeon That you spin; With a wink he maybe watches 'Neath the willow-root's dark notches As you toil with aching wrist, But the landing-net's no nearer, nor the deft taxidermist! But the skies are smiling bluely, There is shade along the shore, And the chestnut's litten newly Lamps a score; Drop the rod then and be thankful For the sight that fill the bank full— Verdant meads and ancient stems And the broad paternal bigness and the peace of Father Thames! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO HIS WIFE ON THE 16TH ANNIVERSARY OF HER WEDDING DAY, WITH A RING by SAMUEL BISHOP THE SCRUTINY; SONG by RICHARD LOVELACE TO A CHAMELEON by MARIANNE MOORE A MORNING HYMN by CHARLES WESLEY PRAYER TO THE VIRGIN OF CHARTRES by HENRY BROOKS ADAMS |