New Zealand Verse/The River Avon
LXI.
The River Avon.
“Fies nobilium tu quoque fontium.”—Horace.
I love thee, Avon! though thy banks have known
No deed of note, thy wand’ring course along
No bard of Avon hath poured forth in song
Thy tuneful praise; thy modest tide hath flown
For ages on, unheeded and alone.
I love thee for thy English name, but more
Because my countrymen along thy shore
Have made new homes. Therefore not all unknown
Henceforth thy streams shall flow. A little while
Shall see thy wastes grow lovely. Not in vain
Shall England’s sons dwell by thee many a mile.
With verdant meads and fields of waving grain
Thy rough, uncultured banks ere long shall smile;
Heaven-pointing spires shall beautify thy plain.
No deed of note, thy wand’ring course along
No bard of Avon hath poured forth in song
Thy tuneful praise; thy modest tide hath flown
For ages on, unheeded and alone.
I love thee for thy English name, but more
Because my countrymen along thy shore
Have made new homes. Therefore not all unknown
Henceforth thy streams shall flow. A little while
Shall see thy wastes grow lovely. Not in vain
Shall England’s sons dwell by thee many a mile.
With verdant meads and fields of waving grain
Thy rough, uncultured banks ere long shall smile;
Heaven-pointing spires shall beautify thy plain.
Henry Jacobs.