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The Deserted Village

Posted by ESC on February 03, 2004

In Reply to: The Deserted Village 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;

I wonder if Ms. Cooper is going to come back and tell us if that's the one.