English poem
ON THE MEDWAY.
by E. Nesbit
In summer evening, love, We glide by grassy meadows, Red sun is shining, Day is declining, Peace is around, above. The poplar folds on high Dark wings against the sky; Through dreaming shadows On we move, Silently, you and I.
And seaward still we row, By sedge and bulrush sliding, Breezes are sending Ripples unending Over the way we go. Above the poplar tree The moon sails white and free, The boat goes gliding Swift or slow, But ever towards the sea.