Poem by William Lisle Bowles

Sonnet 5. To the River Tweed

O Tweed! a stranger, that with wandering feet
O'er hill and dale has journeyed many a mile,
(If so his weary thoughts he might beguile),
Delighted turns thy stranger-stream to greet.
The waving branches that romantic bend
O'er thy tall banks a soothing charm bestow;
The murmurs of thy wandering wave below
Seem like the converse of some long-lost friend.
Delightful stream! though now along thy shore,
When spring returns in all her wonted pride,
The distant pastoral pipe is heard no more;
Yet here while laverocks sing could I abide,
Far from the stormy world's contentious roar,
To muse upon thy banks at eventide. 

1. Cadland, Southampton River
2. Picture of an Old Man
3. Greenwich Hospital
4. Sonnet 2. Written at Bamborough Castle
5. Sonnet 14. On a Distant View of England

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