VICTOR
B . NEUBURG .
UNDER
MAGDALEN
BRIDGE .
THE
lapping, lapping, lapping
of
the
stream
1
Makes
songs
around my lazy-light
canoe ;
The
soft
brown
haze of dusk
shines
softly
through
The
dripping
trees, and
the damp meadows
seem
A
plateau
as
of lost desire ,
a
dream
That melts
from
gold
to
gray :
a
soft breeze blew
Across
the brow
of waking
night, and dew
Re-bathes
the
earth
that
grows
a
fading
gleam
.
The
sleepy
river
ripples
,
ripples
ever
Betwixt
the
old brown
wall
and meadows
trim
;
The tideless
song
of
Never
,
Never
,
Never
Lulls
the
wet
woods
,
and
ever
growing
dim
The
fields
are
grey
with mist
,
and
slip away
Into
the
darkness
with
the
dying
day
.
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