Cherwell! how pleased along thy willowed edge <br />Erewhile I strayed, or when the morn began <br />To tinge the distant turret's golden fan, <br />Or evening glimmered o'er the sighing sedge! <br />And now reposing on thy banks once more, <br />I bid the lute farewell, and that sad lay <br />Whose music on my melancholy way <br />I wooed: beneath thy willows waving hoar, <br />Seeking a while to rest--till the bright sun <br />Of joy return; as when Heaven's radiant Bow <br />Beams on the night-storm's passing wings below: <br />Whate'er betide, yet something have I won <br />Of solace, that may bear me on serene, <br />Till eve's last hush shall close the silent scene.<br /><br />William Lisle Bowles<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-river-cherwell/
