Old town in heyday steep, expanding wealth bloated,
At all three waters’ lapping confluence ,
On which grand commerce’s tall ships once floated ,
That brought twice daily tides, influx of affluence.
Sun-glowing gentle murmurs, undulating rills,
Like freezing melting of libratory waddly time,
Saltscented strong as air of flowered window sills,
Atrahent thrum twinge, then release of reed and slime.
Emerging from mysterious blend in mists, low tide mumbles
Gloriously as gradations in flowers’ tint ,
Glow houses gardens town scarce hint of grumble
At onward sun’s all silent autumn sprint.
How leisurely this moment as the waters glide ,
Deceiving careless eye, ignoring grip of time and tide.