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The Deserted Village

Posted by Henry on February 02, 2004

In Reply to: The Brook posted by Henry on February 02, 2004

: : : Hi

: : : I know this is probably the rong place to try but here goes anyway. I am trying to find a poem I read in school in Scotland. It was about a Hawthorne tree and a babbling brook. I cant remember the author or title, ( big help). It is quite important as my mother in law read the same poem and loved it but she is very poorly at the moment and I would love to find it for her. so if there are any old or new English teachers out there that can help I would be very grateful. Thanks anyway.

: : : Lorna

: : I am in the U.S. I collect children's poetry books and have several old ones. So if someone has a clue to the title and can't locate it online, I'd be glad to try and find it.

: Here's a babbling brook but no hawthorn!
: The Brook by Alfred Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)

: I come from haunts of coot and hern,
: I make a sudden sally
: And sparkle out among the fern,
: To bicker down a valley.

: By thirty hills I hurry down,
: Or slip between the ridges,
: By twenty thorpes, a little town,
: And half a hundred bridges.

: Till last by Philip's farm I flow
: To join the brimming river,
: For men may come and men may go,
: But I go on for ever.

: I chatter over stony ways,
: In little sharps and trebles,
: I bubble into eddying bays,
: I babble on the pebbles.

: With many a curve my banks I fret
: By many a field and fallow,
: And many a fairy foreland set
: With willow-weed and mallow.

: I chatter, chatter, as I flow
: To join the brimming river,
: For men may come and men may go,
: But I go on for ever.

: I wind about, and in and out,
: With here a blossom sailing,
: And here and there a lusty trout,
: And here and there a grayling,

: And here and there a foamy flake
: Upon me, as I travel
: With many a silvery waterbreak
: Above the golden gravel,

: And draw them all along, and flow
: To join the brimming river
: For men may come and men may go,
: But I go on for ever.

: I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
: I slide by hazel covers;
: I move the sweet forget-me-nots
: That grow for happy lovers.

: I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
: Among my skimming swallows;
: I make the netted sunbeam dance
: Against my sandy shallows.

: I murmur under moon and stars
: In brambly wildernesses;
: I linger by my shingly bars;
: I loiter round my cresses;

: And out again I curve and flow
: To join the brimming river,
: For men may come and men may go,
: But I go on for ever.

From The Deserted Village by Oliver Goldsmith

Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain,
Where health and plenty cheered the labouring swain,
Where smiling spring its earliest visits paid,
And parting summer's lingering blooms delayed:
Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease,
Seats of my youth, where every sport could please,
How often have I loitered o'er your green,
Where humble happiness endeared each scene;
How often have I paused on every charm,
The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm,
The never-failing brook, the busy mill,
The decent church that topped the neighbouring hill,
The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade,
For talking age and whispering lovers made;