Стихи и поэмы

             And to hear how the water
               Comes down at Lodore
             With its rush and its roar,
                  As many a time
              They had seen it before.
              So I told them in rhyme,
             For of rhymes I had store:
              And 'twas in my vocation
               For their recreation
               That so should I sing
               Because I was Laureate
               To them and the King.
             From its sources which well
              In the Tarn on the fell;
                 From its fountains
                 In the mountains,
              Its rills and its gills;
           Through moss and through brake,
               It runs and it creeps
             For awhile till it sleeps
              In its own little Lake.
              And thence at departing,
              Awakening and starting,
             It runs through the reeds
               And away it proceeds,
             Through meadow and glade,
               In sun and in shade,
           And through the wood-shelter,
             Among crags in its flurry,
                  Helter-skelter,
                   Hurry-scurry.
              Here it comes sparkling,
             And there it lies darkling;
              Now smoking and frothing
              Its tumult and wrath in,
              Till in this rapid race
                On which it is bent,
               It reaches the place
               Of its steep descent.
                The Cataract strong
                Then plunges along,
                Striking and raging
                As if a war waging
           Its caverns and rocks among:
                Rising and leaping,
               Sinking and creeping,
               Swelling and sweeping,
              Showering and springing,
                Flying and flinging,
                Writhing and ringing,
                Eddying and whisking,
                Spouting and frisking,
                Turning and twisting,
                 Around and around
                With endless rebound!
                Smiting and fighting,
                A sight to delight in;
               Confounding, astounding,
   Dizzying and deafening the ear with its sound.
               Collecting, projecting,
               Receding and speeding,
              And shocking and rocking,
              And darting and parting,
             And threading and spreading,
              And whizzing and hissing,
              And dripping and skipping,
              And hitting and splitting,
               And shining and twining,
              And rattling and battling,
               And shaking and quaking,
               And pouring and roaring,
               And waving and raving,
              And tossing and crossing,
               And flowing and going,
              And running and stunning,
              And foaming and roaming,
              And dinning and spinning,
              And dropping and hopping,
              And working and jerking,
            And guggling and struggling,
              And heaving and cleaving,
              And moaning and groaning;
           And glittering and frittering,
           And gathering and feathering,
           And whitening and brightening,
            And quivering and shivering,
            And hurrying and scurrying,
          And thundering and floundering,
         Dividing and gliding and sliding,
      And falling and brawling and sprawling,
        And diving and riving and striving,
    And sprinkling and twinkling and wrinkling,
      And sounding and bounding and rounding,
      And bubbling and troubling and doubling,
      And grumbling and rumbling and tumbling,
    And clattering and battering and shattering;
  Retreating and beating and meeting and sheeting,
  Delaying and straying and playing and spraying,
  Advancing and prancing and glancing and dancing,