Steam-Launches on the Thames

Henley, June 7, 1891.
    Shall we, to whom the stream by right belongs, 
   Who travel silent, save, perchance, for songs;
   Whose track's a ripple,-leaves the Thames a lake,
   Nor frights the swan-scarce makes the rushes shake;
   Who harmonize, exemplify, complete
   And vivify a scene already sweet:
   Who travel careless on, from lock to lock,
   Oblivious that the world contains a clock,
   With pace commensurate to our desires,
  Propelled by other force than Stygian fire's;
  Shall we be driven hence to leave a place
  For these, who bring upon our stream disgrace:
  The rush, the roar, the stench, the smoke, the steam,
  The nightmare striking through our heavenly dream;
  The scream as shrill and hateful to the ear
  As when a peacock vents his rage and fear;
  Which churn to fury all a glassy reach,
  And heave rude breakers on a pebbly beach:
  Which half o'erwhelm with waves our frailer craft,
  While graceless shop-boys chuckle fore and aft:
  Foul water-toadstools, noisome filth-stained shapes,
  Fit only to be manned by dogs and apes:
  Blots upon nature: scars that mar her smile:
  Obscene, obtrusive, execrable, vile?