57. BAB-LOCK-HYTHE
Reading edition
In the time of wild roses As up Thames we travelled Where 'mid water-weeds ravelled The lily uncloses,
To his old shores the river A new song was singing, And young shoots were springing On old roots for ever.
Dog-daisies were dancing, And flags flamed in cluster, On the dark stream a lustre Now blurred and now glancing.
A tall reed down-weighing The sedge-warbler fluttered; One sweet note he uttered, Then left it soft-swaying.
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By the bank's sandy hollow My dipt oars went beating, And past our bows fleeting Blue-backed shone the swallow.
High woods, heron-haunted, Rose, changed, as we rounded Old hills greenly mounded, To meadows enchanted.
A dream ever moulded Afresh for our wonder, Still opening asunder For the stream many-folded;
Till sunset was rimming The West with pale flushes; Behind the black rushes The last light was dimming;
And the lonely stream, hiding Shy birds, grew more lonely, And with us was only The noise of our gliding.
In cloud of gray weather The evening o'erdarkened, In the stillness we hearkened; Our hearts sang together.
Laurence Binyon.
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58. ROWER'S CHANT
Row till the land dip 'neath The sea from view. Row till a land peep up, A home for you.
Row till the mast sing songs Welcome and sweet. Row till the waves, out-stripped, Give up dead beat.
Row till the sea-nymphs rise To ask you why Rowing you tarry not To hear them sigh.
Row till the stars grow bright Like certain eyes. Row till the noon be high As hopes you prize.
Row till you harbour in All longing's port. Row till you find all things For which you sought.
T. Sturge Moore.