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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
England: Vols. I–IV. 1876–79.

Itchin, the River

To the River Itchin

By William Lisle Bowles (1762–1850)

ITCHIN! when I behold thy banks again,

Thy crumbling margin, and thy silver breast,

On which the selfsame tints still seem to rest,

Why feels my heart a shivering sense of pain?

Is it that many a summer’s day has past

Since in life’s morn I carolled on thy side?

Is it that oft since then my heart has sighed

As youth and hope’s delusive gleams flew fast?

Is it that those who gathered on thy shore,

Companions of my youth, now meet no more?

Whate’er the cause, upon thy banks I bend,

Sorrowing; yet feel such solace at my heart

As at the meeting of some long-lost friend,

From whom, in happier hours, we wept to part.