Kotri By The River

At Kotri, by the river, when the evening’s sun is low,

The waving palm trees quiver, the golden waters glow,

The shining ripples shiver, descending to the sea;

At Kotri, by the river, she used to wait for me.

So young, she was, and slender, so pale with wistful eyes

As luminous and tender as Kotri’s twilight skies.

Her face broke into flowers, red flowers at the mouth,

Her voice,–she sang for hours like bulbuls in the south.

We sat beside the water through burning summer days,

And many things I taught her of Life and all its ways

Of Love, man’s loveliest duty, of Passion’s reckless pain,

Of Youth, whose transient beauty comes once, but not again.

She lay and laughed and listened beside the water’s edge.

The glancing rirer glistened and glinted through the sedge.

Green parrots flew above her and, as the daylight died,

Her young arms drew her lover more closely to her side.

Oh days so warm and golden! oh nights so cool and still!

When Love would not be holden, and Pleasure had his will.

Days, when in after leisure, content to rest we lay,

Nights, when her lips’ soft pressure drained all my life away.

And while we sat together, beneath the Babul trees,

The fragrant, sultry weather cooled by the river breeze,

If passion faltered ever, and left the senses free,

We heard the tireless river decending to the sea.

I know not where she wandered, or went in after days,

Or if her youth she squandered in Love’s more doubtful ways.

Perhaps, beside the river, she died, still young and fair;

Perchance the grasses quiver above her slumber there.

At Kotri, by the river, maybe I too shall sleep

The sleep that lasts for ever, too deep for dreams; too deep.

Maybe among the shingle and sand of floods to be

Her dust and mine may mingle and float away to sea.

Ah Kotri, by the river, when evening’s sun is low,

Your faint reflections quiver, your golden ripples glow.

You knew, oh Kotri river, that love which could not last.

For me your palms still shiver with passions of the past.

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• Upon The Sight Of A Beautiful Picture Painted By Sir G. H. Beaumont, Bart by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• To The Small Celandine by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• To The Poet, John Dyer by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• To Sleep by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• To Sir George Howland Beaumont, Bart From the South-West Coast Or Cumberland 1811 by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• To Joanna by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• To A Young Lady Who Had Been Reproached For Taking Long Walks In The Country by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• To a Sky-Lark by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• ‘Tis Said, That Some Have Died For Love by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• The Vaudois by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• The Two Thieves; Or, The Last Stage Of Avarice by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• The Two April Mornings by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• The Thorn by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• The Tables Turned by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• The Sun Has Long Been Set by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• The Stars Are Mansions Built By Nature’s Hand by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• The Sparrow’s Nest by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• The Solitary Reaper by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• The Simplon Pass by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• The Shepherd, Looking Eastward, Softly Said by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth

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