(Air: Carnaval de Venise) <br /> <br />LET Housman sing of Severn shore, <br />Of Thames let Arnold sing, <br />But we will sing no river more <br />Save this where crowbars ring. <br />Let others sing of Henley, <br />Of fashion and renown, <br />But we will sing the thirteen locks <br />That lead to Tonbridge town! <br />Then sing the Kentish river, <br />The Kentish fields and flowers, <br />We waste no dreams on other streams <br />Who call the Medway ours. <br /> <br /> <br />When on the level golden meads <br />The evening sunshine lies, <br />The little voles among the reeds <br />Look out with wondering eyes. <br />The patient anglers linger <br />The placid stream beside, <br />Where still with towering tarry prow <br />The stately barges glide. <br />Then sing the Kentish river, <br />The Kentish fields and flowers, <br />We waste no dreams on other streams <br />Who call the Medway ours. <br /> <br /> <br />On Medway banks the May droops white, <br />The wild rose blossoms fair, <br />O'er meadow-sweet and loosestrife bright, <br />For water nymphs to wear. <br />And mid the blowing rushes <br />Pan pipes a joyous song, <br />And woodland things peep from the shade <br />As soft we glide along. <br />Then sing the Kentish river, <br />The Kentish fields and flowers, <br />We waste no dreams on other streams <br />Who call the Medway ours. <br /> <br /> <br />You see no freight on Medway boats <br />Of fashions fine and rare, <br />But happy men in shabby coats, <br />And girls with wind-kissed hair. <br />The world's a pain forgotten, <br />And very far away, <br />The stream that flows, the boat that goes-- <br />These are our world to-day. <br />Then sing the Kentish river, <br />The Kentish fields and flowers, <br />We waste no dreams on other streams <br />Who call the Medway ours.<br /><br />Edith Nesbit<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/medway-song/
