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Wilfrid Scawen Blunt - The Idler’s Calendar. Twelve Sonnets For The Months. August
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ON THE THAMES

 The river Thames has many a dear delight
 In summer days for souls which know not guile,
 Or souls too careless of the vain world`s spite
 To heed its frowning while the heavens smile.
 In boyhood all our pleasure was in toil,
 As with bent backs we laboured at the oar;
 We loved to spend our strength in the turmoil
 Of speed disputed, conquered, conqueror.

 But other years brought other joys. Alas!
 Where is fair Rosamund, our heart`s first queen,
 Whose foot so lightly trod with us the grass,
 Though burdened with the hundred loves of men,
 At Kew, at Skindle`s? But no more of this.
 We still have joys, and still old Thames is green.
 Still on his back we float awhile and press
 His hand in hope, and call it happiness.
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