Through grass, through amber'd cornfields, our slow Stream-- <br />Fringed with its flags and reeds and rushes tall, <br />And Meadowsweet, the chosen of them all <br />By wandering children, yellow as the cream <br />Of those great cows--winds on as in a dream <br />By mill and footbridge, hamlet old and small <br />(Red roofs, gray tower), and sees the sunset gleam <br />On mullion'd windows of an ivied Hall. <br /> <br />There, once upon a time, the heavy King <br />Trod out its perfume from the Meadowsweet, <br />Strown like a woman's love beneath his feet, <br />In stately dance or jovial banqueting, <br />When all was new; and in its wayfaring <br />Our Streamlet curved, as now, through grass and wheat.<br /><br />William Allingham<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/meadowsweet/
