Page:The Muse in Arms, Osborn (ed), 1917.djvu/242

200 Where the eddies play with the rocks all day

In a whirl of fretful fun,

And the wavelet kisses the pebbly shore

With a mirrored smile from the sun.

A good brave plunge in the crystal cool

Of this grand primeval tub:

Then glowing you stand on the warm dry rocks

By the edge of the foaming Dub.

Then homeward along, like the soul of a song

That has every note in tune;

And dear will the memory always be

Of the glorious pools of Lune.

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