[The Gwash at Great Casterton].
Thinking about the 2010 festival and the coach trip to Great Casterton, here is Clare sitting under the bridge by the river Gwash observing what there is around him... (just an excerpt)
While swift the mail coach rattles up the hill
Nearly unseen beneath a cloud of dust
& the poor beggar pined & weary still
Drops on the bank to rest or eat his crust
Upon thy winding side wild Gwash I lie
Viewing with curious eye the silver bream
Taking vaunting springs to trap the thoughtless flye
That heedless dances on thy gentle stream
The black snail wakens from the swoons of day
& from the boughs that nestle by thy side
The light wing'd moths steal out again to play
Crossing with hasty wing thy rippling tide
How sweet the blackbird chaunts her evening song
While the shrill larks in twittering chorus join
& O sad deed while boys thy shades among
With hardnd hearts her unfledg'd young purloin
While swift the mail coach rattles up the hill
Nearly unseen beneath a cloud of dust
& the poor beggar pined & weary still
Drops on the bank to rest or eat his crust
Upon thy winding side wild Gwash I lie
Viewing with curious eye the silver bream
Taking vaunting springs to trap the thoughtless flye
That heedless dances on thy gentle stream
The black snail wakens from the swoons of day
& from the boughs that nestle by thy side
The light wing'd moths steal out again to play
Crossing with hasty wing thy rippling tide
How sweet the blackbird chaunts her evening song
While the shrill larks in twittering chorus join
& O sad deed while boys thy shades among
With hardnd hearts her unfledg'd young purloin
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