O Scamander! I’ve heard it
said
Your waters once ran thick
and red
With blood of heroes newly
dead
(Hurrah for heroes safely
dead!)
And by your waters grim and
gory
Great Homer came and made a
story
That gave you everlasting
glory
(What is life without some
glory?)
Trust old Homer as a guide;
he’s
One of those who comes and
tidies
Deeds of the fierce Hellenides
(Long gone now, the
Hellenides)
No echoes of the warhorn’s
blast
Disturbs the shadows of the
past
A blind man knows the way at
last.
(Oh blind man, lead us home
at last!)
By the
tingling of my fingers
Something
comes and glumly lingers
By the
itching of my knee
It wisheth
much to speak with me
By the
tickling of my nose
It
speaketh in a sort of prose
By my
eyes which seem to glisten
I will
not for a moment listen
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