"The rich are talking of their money's worth, And the quiet lock must go. They're going to choke our blue canal with earth, And a road for public show. "I've let the narrow boats slip in and out These thirty years and more. It will be hard to wake and turn about, When a dream was at my door, "A dream of sun and slanting meadow-croft, And a bright waterway, And boats, like sea-gulls, rising, settling soft. Well, -- the dream-birds never stay! "The motors will come lavishing their smell At every hour, and mock Our quietness with every hoot of hell," Said the keeper of the lock. "I love the lock with its banks of moss and vine," Said the daughter Marjory, "But the days are dull with never an outward sign. Now the world will come to me. "I shall be glad to hear new voices ring, To discover some new face, To see the luck of cities have its fling In this wide and silent place." "The motors will be snorting dust to dim The hedge, the hollyhock, And killing all the air for pleasure's whim," Said the keeper of the lock. "It will be good to see long rows of light Stretch to infinity, And rosy car on car flash out of sight," Said the daughter Marjory. Said the keeper of the lock: "They've driven their knife, -- For the lock is life to me!" "It will be good to know a bit of life," Said the daughter Marjory. |