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Poem by James Payn The Backs DROPPING down the river, Down the glancing river, Through the fleet of shallops, Through the fairy fleet, Underneath the bridges, Carvéd stone and oaken, Crowned with sphere and pillar, Linking lawn with lawn, Sloping swards of garden, Flowering bank to bank; Midst the golden noontide, ’Neath the stately trees, Reaching out their laden Arms to overshade us; Midst the summer evens, Whilst the winds were heavy With the blossom-odors, Whilst the birds were singing From their sleepless nests. Dropping down the river, Down the branchéd river, Through the hidden outlet Of some happy stream, Lifting up the leafy Curtain that o’erhung it, Fold on fold of foliage Not proof against the stars. Drinking ruby claret From the silvered “Pewter,” Spoil of ancient battle On the “ready” Cam, Ne’er to be forgotten Pleasant friendly faces Mistily discerning Through the glass below. Ah! the balmy fragrance Of the mild Havanna! Downed amidst the purple Of our railway wrappers, Solemn-thoughted, glorious On the verge of June. Musical the rippling Of the tardy current, Musical the murmur Of the wind-swept trees, Musical the cadence Of the friendly voices Laden with the sweetness Of the songs of old. James Payn James Payn's other poems: 1172 Views |
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