Coot and hern meaning
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I come from haunts of coot and hern,
I make sudden sally
And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley.
By thirty hills I hurry down,
Or slip between the ridges,
By twenty thorps, a little town,
And half a hundred bridges.
* * *
I chatter over stony ways,
In little sharps and trebles,
I bubble into eddying bays,
I babble on the pebbles.
With many a curve my banks I fret
By many a field and fallow,
And many a fairy foreland set
With willow-weed and mallow.
* * *
And here and there a foamy lake
Upon me, as I travel
With many a silvery waterbreak
Above the golden gravel,
And draw them all along, and flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.
Apart from the delightful simpilcity of this nature poem by Tennyson,we may look at the sensory images he creates about the brook’s journey notably the auditory and visual ones.
I make a sudden sally
and sparkle out among the fern
to bicker down a valley
The start of the brook’s journey is described in just three lines, so full of
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- Intro
- Summary
- Themes
- Line-by-Line
Explanations - Symbols
- Poetic
Devices - Vocabulary &
References - Form, Meter, &
Rhyme Scheme - Speaker
- Setting
- Context
- Resources
The Full Text of “The Brook”
1I come from haunts of coot and hern:
2 I make a sudden sally
3And sparkle out among the fern,
4 To bicker down a valley.
5By thirty hills I hurry down,
6 Or slip between the ridges,
7By twenty thorps, a little town,
8 And half a hundred bridges.
9Till last by Philip’s farm I flow
10 To join the brimming river,
11For men may come and men may go,
12 But I go on for ever.
13I chatter over stony ways,
14 In little sharps and trebles,
15I bubble into eddying bays,
16 I babble on the pebbles.
17With many a curve my banks I fret
18 By many a field and fallow,
19And many a fairy foreland set
20 With willow-weed and mallow.
21I chatter, chatter, as I flow
22 To join the brimming river,
23For men may come and men may go,
24 But I go on for ever.
25I wind about, and in and out,
26 With here a blossom sailing,
27And here and t
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By Edward Thomas
Seated once by a brook, watching a child
Chiefly that paddled, I was thus beguiled.
Mellow the blackbird sang and sharp the thrush
Not far off in the oak and hazel brush,
Unseen. There was a scent like honeycomb
From mugwort dull. And down upon the dome
Of the stone the cart-horse kicks against so oft
A butterfly alighted. From aloft
He took the heat of the sun, and from below.
On the hot stone he perched contented so,
As if never a cart would pass again
That way; as if I were the last of men
And he the first of insects to have earth
And sun together and to know their worth.
I was divided between him and the gleam,
The motion, and the voices, of the stream,
The waters running frizzled over gravel,
That never vanish and for ever travel.
A grey flycatcher silent on a fence
And I sat as if we had been there since
The horseman and the horse lying beneath
The fir-tree-covered barrow on the heath,
The horseman and the horse with silver shoes,
Galloped the downs last. All that I could lose
I lost. And then the child’s voice raised the dead.
“No one’s b
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