Here you will find thePoemCleve Woodsof poet Mathilde Blind
SWEET Avon glides where clinging rushes seem To stay his course, and, in his flattering glass, Meadows and hills and mellow woodlands pass, A fairer world as imaged in a dream. And sometimes, in a visionary gleam, From out the secret covert's tangled mass, The fisher-bird starts from the rustling grass, A jewelled shuttle shot along the stream. Even here, methinks, when moon-lapped shallows smiled Round isles no bigger than a baby cot, Titania found a glowworm-lighted child, Led far astray, and, with anointing hand Sprinkling clear dew from a forget-me-not, Hailed him the Laureate of her Fairyland.
