The Avon
Avon, a precious, an immortal name! Yet is it one that other rivulets bear Like this unheard-of, and their channels wear Like this contented, though unknown to Fame: For great and sacred is the modest claim Of Streams to Nature's love, where'er they flow; And ne'er did Genius slight them, as they go, Tree, flower, and green herb, feeding without blame. But Praise can waste her voice on work of tears, Anguish, and death: full oft where innocent blood Has mixed its current with the limpid flood, Her heaven-offending trophies Glory rears: Never for like distinction may the good Shrink from 'thy' name, pure Rill, with unpleased ears.
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"Avon, a precious, an immortal name!..."
"The Avon" is a quintessential example of William Wordsworth's signature style... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...