Page:Poems of Gerard Manley Hopkins, 1918.djvu/38

24 And all the landscape under survey,

At tranquil turns, by nature's rule,

Rides repeated topsyturvy

In frank, in fairy Penmaen Pool.

And Charles's Wain, the wondrous seven,

And sheep-flock clouds like worlds of wool,

For all they shine so, high in heaven,

Shew brighter shaken in Penmaen Pool.

The Mawddach, how she trips! though throttled

If floodtide teeming thrills her full,

And mazy sands all water-wattled

Waylay her at ebb, past Penmaen Pool.

But what 's to see in stormy weather,

When grey showers gather and gusts are cool?—

Why, raindrop-roundels looped together

That lace the face of Penmaen Pool.

Then even in weariest wintry hour

Of New Year's month or surly Yule

Furred snows, charged tuft above tuft, tower

From darksome darksome Penmaen Pool.

And ever, if bound here hardest home,

You've parlour-pastime left and (who'll

Not honour it?) ale like goldy foam

That frocks an oar in Penmaen Pool.

Then come who pine for peace or pleasure

Away from counter, court, or school,

Spend here your measure of time and treasure

And taste the treats of Penmaen Pool.