That creek in the shade of the great elms
Is not a creek but a shattered rainbow,
Printed on the water
And inlaid with duckweed,
It is my lost dream.
Hunting a dream?
Wielding a long punting pole
I get my boat into green water,
Into still greener grass.
In a flood of starlight
On a river of silver and diamond
I sing to my heart s content.
But now, no, I cannot sing
With farewell in my heart.
Farewells must be quiet, mute,
Even the summer insects are silent,
Knowing I am leaving.
The Cambridge night is soundless.
I leave quietly
As I came quietly.
I am leaving
Without taking so much
As absp; piece of cloud.
But with a quick jerk of my sleave
I wave goodbye.
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