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Robert Laurence Binyon - Bab—Lock—HytheRobert Laurence Binyon - Bab—Lock—Hythe
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In the time of wild roses As up Thames we travelled Where `mid water--weeds ravelled The lily uncloses, To his old shores the river A new song was singing, And young shoots were springing On old roots for ever. Dog--daisies were dancing, And flags flamed in cluster, On the dark stream a lustre Now blurred and now glancing. A tall reed down--weighing, The sedge--warbler fluttered; One sweet note he uttered, Then left it soft--swaying. By the bank`s sandy hollow My dipt oars went beating, And past our bows fleeting Blue--backed shone the swallow. High woods, heron--haunted, Rose, changed, as we rounded Old hills greenly mounded, To meadows enchanted; A dream ever moulded Afresh for our wonder, Still opening asunder For the stream many--folded; Till sunset was rimming The West with pale flushes; Behind the black rushes The last light was dimming; And the lonely stream, hiding Shy birds, grew more lonely, And with us was only The noise of our gliding. In cloud of gray weather The evening o`erdarkened. In the stillness we hearkened; Our hearts sang together.
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