I come from haunts of coot and hern,
I make a sudden sally,
And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley.
I make a sudden sally,
And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley.
By thirty hills I hurry down,
Or slip between the ridges,
By twenty thorps, a little town,
And half a hundred bridges.
Till last by (Lester's) farm I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.
- Alfred, Lord Tennyson
1 comment:
That's a beautiful photo, and you found the perfect poem to go with it.
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