The Stream’s Song Poem by Lascelles Abercrombie

The Stream’s Song

Rating: 2.7


Make way, make way,
You thwarting stones;
Room for my play,
Serious ones.

Do you not fear,
O rocks and boulders,
To feel my laughter
On your broad shoulders?

So you not know
My joy at length
Will all wear out
Your solemn strength?

You will not for ever
Cumber my play:
With joy and son
I clear my way.

Your faith of rock
Shall yield to me,
And be carried away
By the song of my glee.

Crumble, crumble,
Voiceless things;
No faith can last
That never sings.

For the last hour
To joy belongs:
The steadfast perish,
But not the songs.

Yet for a while
Thwart me, O boulders;
I need for laugher
Your serious shoulders.

And when my singing
Has razed your quite,
I shall have lost
Half my delight.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Dr Antony Theodore 12 April 2020

Crumble, crumble, Voiceless things; No faith can last That never sings. very fine thought. tony

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pradeep marwaha 19 March 2020

Anything similar in Hindi or a translation please

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Anil Kumar Panda 09 September 2019

A well rhyming, smoothly flowing beautiful poem. Enjoyed. 'And when my singing Has razed your quite, I shall have lost Half my delight.'.. is so nice. Thanks for sharing.

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