Charles Stuart Calverley
Lovers and a Reflection
In moss-prankt dells which the sunbeams flatter
(And heaven it knoweth what that may mean;
Meaning, however, is no great matter)
Where woods are a-tremble with words a-tween.
Thro' God's own heather we wonned together,
I and my Willie (O love my love):
I need hardly remark it was glorious weather,
And flitter-bats wavered alow, above;
Boats were curtseying, rising, bowing,
(Boats in that climate are so polite,)
And sands were a ribbon of green endowing,
And O the sun-dazzle on bark and bight!
Thro' the rare red heather we danced together
(O love my Willie,) and smelt for flowers:
I must mention again it was glorious weather,
Rhymes are so scarce in this world of ours:
By rises that flushed with their purple favors,
Thro' becks that brattled o'er grasses sheen,
We walked or waded, we two young shavers,
Thanking our stars we were both so green.
We journeyed in parallels, I and Willie,
In fortunate parallels! Butterflies,
Hid in weltering shadows of daffodilly
Or marjoram, kept making peacock eyes:
Song-birds darted about, some inky
As coal, some snowy (I ween) as curds;
Or rosy as pinks, or as roses pinky-
They reck of no eerie To-come, those birds!
But they skim over bents which the mill-stream washes,
Or hang in the lift 'neath a white cloud's hem;
They need no parasols, no goloshes;
And good Mrs. Trimmer she feedeth them.
Then we thrid God's cowslips (as erst His heather),
That endowed the wan grass with their golden blooms;
And snapt-(it was perfectly charming weather)-
Our fingers at Fate and her goddess-glooms:
And Willie 'gan sing-(Oh, his notes were fluty;
Wafts fluttered them out to the white-winged sea)-
Something made up of rhymes that have done much duty,
Rhymes (better to put it) of 'ancientry':
Bowers of flowers encountered showers
In William's carol-(O love my Willie!)
Then he bade sorrow borrow from blithe tomorrow
I quite forget what-say a daffodilly.
A nest in a hollow, 'with buds to follow,'
I think occurred next in his nimble strain;
And clay that was 'kneaden' of course in 'Eden'-
A rhyme most novel I do maintain:
Mists, bones, the singer himself, love-stories,
And all least furlable things got 'furled';
Not with any design to conceal their glories,
But simply and solely to rhyme with 'world.'
O if 'billows' and 'pillows' and 'hours' and 'flowers,'
And all the brave rhymes of an elder day,
Could be furled together, this genial weather,
And carted or carried on wafts away,
Nor ever again trotted out-ah me!
How much fewer volumes of verse there'd be.
Charles Stuart Calverley's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Lovers and a Reflection by Charles Stuart Calverley )
- A, Vera Sidhwa
- Buried Beneath The Waves, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- uncomfortable, maharshi trivedi
- Mexican Food With Jesus, Mr. Nobody
- Sonnet of Pain, Sierra Staten
- Particle Of Breath, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- थिरिँ बिरिँ x5, Ronjoy Brahma
- Come Come, Tango Tango
- God Teaches Geology (M-F), Mr. Nobody
- I am Running Faster, Akhtar Jawad
Poem of the Day
- 04 Tongues Made Of Glass, Shaun Shane
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
- Heather Burns