ON THE THAMES <br /> <br />The river Thames has many a dear delight <br />In summer days for souls which know not guile, <br />Or souls too careless of the vain world's spite <br />To heed its frowning while the heavens smile. <br />In boyhood all our pleasure was in toil, <br />As with bent backs we laboured at the oar; <br />We loved to spend our strength in the turmoil <br />Of speed disputed, conquered, conqueror. <br /> <br />But other years brought other joys. Alas! <br />Where is fair Rosamund, our heart's first queen, <br />Whose foot so lightly trod with us the grass, <br />Though burdened with the hundred loves of men, <br />At Kew, at Skindle's? But no more of this. <br />We still have joys, and still old Thames is green. <br />Still on his back we float awhile and press <br />His hand in hope, and call it happiness.<br /><br />Wilfrid Scawen Blunt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-idler-s-calendar-twelve-sonnets-for-the-months-august/
