The Flitting (IV)


Strange scenes mere shadows are to me,
Vague impersonifying things;
I love with my old haunts to be
By quiet woods and gravel springs,
Where little pebbles wear as smooth
As hermits' beads by gentle floods,
Whose noises do my spirits soothe
And warm them into singing moods.

Here every tree is strange to me,
All foreign things where eer I go,
There's none where boyhood made a swee
Or clambered up to rob a crow.
No hollow tree or woodland bower
Well known when joy was beating high,
Where beauty ran to shun a shower
And love took pains to keep her dry,

And laid the sheaf upon the ground
To keep her from the dripping grass,
And ran for stocks and set them round
Till scarce a drop of rain could pass
Through; where the maidens they reclined
And sung sweet ballads now forgot,
Which brought sweet memories to the mind,
But here no memory knows them not.
(tbc) Posted by Hello

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

Can you not nearly see Clare walking the slope in the picture - as you speak with him? Yet-the picture-A scene of such peace and aloneness!

I love his wording here for it sends me "flitting" for answers and new insights into definitions! "Swee" and "hermits'beads?" "Swee" meaning a sound imitating a bird,
or less probably - "sway".

But I need help, please, with "hermits' beads". Thank you.

Roger R. said...

hermits' beads = the rosary, worn smooth by regular prayers.

Anonymous said...

Thank you,Roger!

Anonymous said...

A "swee" is a swing.