Impressions De Voyage

IN the cathedral close at Wells,
In lovely Somerset, there dwells
A happy swan; I saw him float
Up and down the Bishop’s moat
Among the cloudy water-weeds.
’T is an enchanted life he leads.
His grandsire served Lord Lohengrin,
Lir’s children are his next of kin,
And Leda’s mate and royal others
Fly in his flock, — the sad young brothers
Bewitched in Andersen’s fairy tale,
Tewkesbury’s bird, the twain that sail
On Shakespeare’s Avon, — but none else
Except, the elfin swan of Wells
Has a flair for ringing bells.

I saw him like a barge of state
Sweeping toward the water-gate.
I saw the round-eyed unconcern
Of his proud profile at the turn
Beyond the drawbridge, as his glance
Ignored my humble circumstance.
Beneath the gate-house window hung
A rusty bell that once was rung
By travelers who crossed the moat,
Swimming or in a little boat,
To ask a dole; and thither sped
The swan — I saw him rear his head
And stretch his neck and seize the string
And ring the little bell, and ring,
And ring, until his shrill demand
Was answered by a fluttering hand
Romantically strewing cake
Upon the waters for his sake.
It was the hour when mortals take
Their tea in England; all the bells
Were ringing four o’clock in Wells.

And all the while the bells were ringing,
I heard the Welsh coal-miners singing
Without the green close, in the glare
Of the dusty market-square:
I heard the strikers out of Wales,
The sooty Cambrian nightingales,
Singing their hunger-songs; I heard
The music sweet, the bitter word.
Through the Porch called Penniless
Grievance chaunted, and Distress
Hymned old haunting melodies.
But swans and canons took their teas.

O strange to be a happy swan,
Privileged to float, upon
Waters ecclesiastical
In faerie peace fantastical;
A hero in a charmèd life
Untouched by our industrial strife,
Unshadowed by the awful dread
Of hungering for daily bread.
O strange to know that manna fell
Every time you rang a bell!

‘When you go home again,’ my English friend said,
‘What shall you remember, when you think of England?—
Wayside crosses, and young men dead.

Wayside crosses and young men slain,
Crying out, ‘Remember!’ all over England—
‘We shall never tread these home ways again.’

Wayside crosses and young men slain,
Crying out, ‘Remember!’ all over England—
‘See ye to it, we died not in vain.'

See ye to it, ye that cry, ‘ Peace!'
Ye that build battleships to make a boast of England.—
The young men vowed that wars should cease.

See ye to it, ye that increase
War’s grim panoply round about England.—
The young men died for a dream of peace.

The young men died in the midst of their dream,
Crying out, ‘Remember! we trust you, England.—
Our vows are your vows, yours to redeem.’

Wayside crosses for vows unpaid,
Crying out, ‘Remember! ye that govern England—
Ye that hesitate, ye that evade.'

Old men, wise men, are ye not afraid
Of wayside crosses, over all England—
Wayside crosses and young men betrayed?