The Evenlode
I will not try to reach again, I will not set my sail alone, To moor a boat bereft of men At Yarnton's tiny docks of stone. But I will sit beside the fire, And put my hand before my eyes, And trace, to fill my heart's desire, The last of all our Odysseys. The quiet evening kept her tryst: Beneath an open sky we rode, And passed into a wandering mist Along the perfect Evenlode. The tender Evenlode that makes Her meadows hush to hear the sound Of waters mingling in the brakes, And binds my heart to English ground. A lovely river, all alone, She lingers in the hills and holds A hundred little towns of stone, Forgotten in the western wolds.
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"I will not try to reach again,..."
Exploring the themes of classic, Hilaire Belloc delivers a powerful performance in "The Evenlode"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...