In place of these stoned walkways
Those boated ways!
For the smooth conveyance
Of Love's heydays.
My thoughts, censured. Sound, as full
A bee's earful:
'All, tide-glazed, that's lent for
A warm eyeful
What reflects, dull applied
Brickwork-ivied!
If out the Cam, punted.
That rowed; Zwyn-wide.' *
* River in Bruges
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