Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1918.djvu/1135

 JOHN SWINNERTON PHILLIMORE

And lest the feet of strangers overpass

Her walls of grass. Gravely a little river goes his rounds

To beat the bounds.

No bustling flood

To make a tumult in her neighbourhood, But such a stream as knows to go and come

Discreetly dumb. Therein are chambers tapestried with weeds

And screened with reeds; For roof the waterhlv-1 eaves serene

Spread tiles of green.

The sun's large eye Falls soberly upon me where I lie; For delicate webs of immnteiial haze

Refine his rays. The air is full of music none knows what,

Or half- forgot, The living echo of dead voices fills

The unseen hills.

I hear the song

Of cuckoo answering cuckoo all day long; And know not if it be my inward sprite

For my delight Making remember'd poetry appear

As sound in the car. Like a salt savour poignant in the breeze

From distant seas.

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