BY THE WANDLE.

Otago Witness, Issue 2086, 15 February 1894, Page 39

BY THE WANDLE.

Edith sate by the river, The ancient Wandle stream, Where down in the waters quiver, Like the forests of a dream '; The shadows of poplars tall, With the willow and elm between, And the hazy light of early day Guilded the wreaths of smoke that lay Afar upon London town. Her heart was brimming with love, And her lover was far away With the armies proud that strove For the lilies of Normandy. Here he had told her his love, And hither she came to pray, While the soaring lark-notes fell on her ear, And banished the shadowy forms of fear, And the river softly flowed. But there came a whisper from afar, That the arms of England had failed, And the awful fate of war Had fallen on many who sailed With Bedford across the sea. And the people their dead bewailed, And Edith came by the river to weep, Where the shadows are dark and the waters deep, Her lover that slept o'er the wave. Her Edward had fallen, they said, With his face to the myriad foe, Where the knight and his squire lay dead, And the gallants of court were laid low. Here he had told her his love, And hither she came in her woe To prajr for his soul by the brink of the river That, sighing, went down through the meadows forever To the sorrowing Thames below. And now did she wake or dream ? For one through the meadows strode In a doublet of Lincoln green Where the arms of King Henry showed. And she knew it was not a dream ' But that here, where the old stream flowed, Edward had come from the lands afar For the rest of love, from the danger of war, And she wept on his neck for joy. — D. M. Wright. Table Tops, Hakateramea, February 1894.