Curlew

Since it is National Poetry day I thought I would give you some verses from that famous Lincolnshire poet Alfred Lord Tennyson. The theme for the poetry day this year is water.

The Brook

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

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

Til 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 mat go,
But I go on for ever.

There are several other verses if you care to look them up!
I was down by the river again today just as the tide turned and the waders were busy as ever but my flying curlew won the dayfor blip!

I thought about WB Yeats poem the Curlew but it is sad and haunting.
Anyway for good measure here it is.

He reproves The Curlew

Oh CURLEW, cry no more in the air,
Or only to the water in the west;
Because your crying brings to my mind
passion-dimmed eyes and long heavy hair
That was shaken out over my breast:
There is enough evil in the crying of wind.