Hail, Father Thames! ’Tis joy to me Once more thy face and haunts to see; For lingering verdure, soft and rare, Makes thine autumnal carpet fair; And ’mid thy bordering heights is seen The strong and patient evergreen, While checkering sunbeams gild thy way, And lightly with thy ripples play. Spare not to give me smile of cheer, And kindly bid me welcome here; For some, who erst my hand would take, And love me for affection’s sake, Sleep the cold sleep that may not break; And though to fill their vacant place Are blooming brows and forms of grace, Who still a favoring glance extend, And greet their parent’s cherished friend, Yet mingling with that welcome dear, Are voices that they may not hear; For visioned forms around me glide, And tender memories throng my side, Till tears, like pearl-drops, all apart, Swell in the silence of the heart. ——— Methinks thou speak’st of change. ’Tis true; What hand may hold the morning dew All unexhaled through lengthened day, To sparkle ’neath the westering ray? Who dreams his flowing curls to keep, While years roll on, in eddies deep? The elastic feet, that sprung untired, Where cliffs o’er towering cliffs aspired; The heart, untaught a pang to bear, The cheek that ne’er had paled with care, The eye, undimmed by sorrow’s rain— How could I bring these back again? Change hath a part in every loan And gift that youth doth call its own, Nor grants old Earth a bond or claim, Without the endorsement of his name; So, that’s the tenure, father dear, By which we hold possession here, And be not strict to mark with shame, Unless thyself wert free from blame, For, in thy presence be it told, That even thou art changed and old. Methinks, with wild resentment’s flash, I hear thy rising currents dash— But still my charge I’ll deftly prove; Where are the healthful flowers that wove Fresh garlands here, in copse and grove? The golden-rod, of sunny hue, Heart’s-ease and violets deeply blue, The lustrous laurel, richly drest, That through the sober alders prest; These blossomed when I saw thee last, Yet now, dismantled branches cast Keen challenge to the mocking blast,