dots-menu
×

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
England: Vols. I–IV. 1876–79.

Dovedale

In Dovedale

By Henry Glassford Bell (1803–1874)

ISAAC! still thou anglest near me

By the green banks of thy Dove,

Still thy gentle ghost may hear me

Breathe my reverence and love.

Thou, whose ears drank in the warble

Of all streams in crystal play,—

Will thy bones beneath cold marble

Lie in peace so far away?

O my kindly old piscator,

See’st thou not these waters clear?

Time, thou changeling, Time, thou traitor,

Give him back,—his home was here!

Lo! at yonder bend he standeth,

Where round rocks the wave bells out,

See! with skilful touch he landeth

Now a grayling, now a trout.

Stream of beauty! winding, singing

Through the world’s divinest dale,

Ever to thy music bringing

That old spirit calm and pale!

Learnéd in all honest learning,

Trustful, truthful, pure of heart;

Peaceful, blameless honor earning

By the magic of his art.

In life’s fitful turmoil often

Have I longed to be like him,

And have felt my nature soften

Musing on that phantom dim,—

Now a trout and now a grayling

Luring from the shaded pool,

God’s white clouds high o’er him sailing,

All around the beautiful!