Green banks and gliding river! <br />What air from what far place <br />Comes down your waters' face <br />And makes your willows shiver? <br /> <br />Over me stole a spell, <br />A breath upon my brow; <br />Light on my spirit fell, <br />I knew not whence nor how. <br /> <br />Faded into a dream <br />Are Oxford's spires and towers; <br />Far down the winding stream, <br />Beyond the fields and flowers. <br /> <br />Is it that Nature here, <br />Finding me thus alone, <br />Would whisper in my ear <br />Some secret of her own? <br /> <br />Would win her child again <br />To these beloved retreats, <br />Shunned now too long for men, <br />For throngs and busy streets? <br /> <br />I know not. Round the bend <br />The sound of oars comes fast: <br />My moment's spell is past; <br />I hear the voice of a friend.<br /><br />Robert Laurence Binyon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/cherwell-stream/
