The River

Where the Thames runs deep and slow

Where the yellow iris grow,

Where the summer grasses blow,

That's where I would be.

Where the weeping willows weep,

Where the little dormice sleep,

Where the pike lay still and deep,

That's where I would be

 Where the swans glide slowly by.

 Where the swallows fill the sky.

 Where the buzzard flies on high.

 That's were I would be

All along the river's edge,

Rushes grow and common sedge.

Here bindweed entwines the hedge.

That's where I would be.

Walking the towpath in spring

Hear the village church bells ring

Through river mist echoing

Here I do find peace.

©Arthur F Mylam