OLTON POOLS

By John Drinkwater

Now June walks on the waters,

And the cuckoo’ s last enchantment

Passes from Olton pools.

Now dawn comes to my window

Breathing midsummer roses,

And scythes are wet with dew.

Is it not strange for ever

That, bowered in this wonder,

Man keeps a jealous heart?...

That June and the June waters,

And birds and dawn-lit roses,

Are gospels in the wind,

Fading upon the deserts,

Poor pilgrim revelations?...

Hist... over Olton pools!