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Poem by Lascelles Abercrombie
The Stream’s Song
Make way, make way, You thwarting stones; Room for my play, Serious ones. Do you not fear, O rocks and boulders, To feel my laughter On your broad shoulders? So you not know My joy at length Will all wear out Your solemn strength? You will not for ever Cumber my play: With joy and son I clear my way. Your faith of rock Shall yield to me, And be carried away By the song of my glee. Crumble, crumble, Voiceless things; No faith can last That never sings. For the last hour To joy belongs: The steadfast perish, But not the songs. Yet for a while Thwart me, O boulders; I need for laugher Your serious shoulders. And when my singing Has razed your quite, I shall have lost Half my delight.
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