Cambridge Poets 1900–1913

Richard Buxton . SONG . S some hot traveller Going through stones and sands , Who sees clear water stir Amid the weary lands , Takes in his hollowed hands The clean and lively water That trickles down his throat Like laughter , like laughter , So, when you come to me Across these parched places And all the waste I see Flowered with your graces , I take between my hands Your face like a rare cup Where kisses mix with laughter And drink and drink them up Like laughter , like laughter .