To the River Avon Avon! why runnest thou away so fast? Rest thee before that Chancel where repose The bones of him whose spirit moves the world. I have beheld thy birthplace, I have seen Thy tiny ripples where they play amid The golden cups and ever-waving blades. I have seen mighty rivers, I have seen Padus, recovered from his fiery wound, And Tiber, prouder than them all to bear Upon his tawny bosom men who crusht The world they trod on, heeding not the cries Of culprit kings and nations many-tongued. What are to me these rivers, once adorn'd With crowns they would not wear but swept away? Worthier art thou of worship, and I bend My knees upon thy bank, and call thy name, And hear, or think I hear, thy voice reply. |
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