There
twice a day the Severn fills;
That salt sea-water passes by,
And hushes half the babbling Wye,
And
makes a silence in the hills.
The
Wye is hush’d nor moved along,
And hush’d my deepest grief of all,
When fill’d with tears that cannot fall,
I
brim with sorrow drowning song.
The
tide flows down, the wave again
Is vocal in its wooded walls;
My deeper anguish also falls,
And
I can speak a little then.