Nowell Oxland
There’s a waterfall I’m leaving
Running down the rocks in foam,
There’s a pool for which I’m grieving
Near the water-ouzel’s home,
And it’s there that I’d be lying
With the heather close at hand,
And the Curlew’s faintly crying
Mid the wastes of Cumberland.
While the midnight watch is winging
Thoughts of other days arise.
I can hear the river singing
Like the Saints in Paradise;
I can see the water winking
Like the merry eyes of Pan,
And the slow half-pounders sinking
By the bridges’ granite span.
Ah! To win them back and clamber
Braced anew with winds I love,
From the rivers’ stainless amber
To the morning mist above,
See through clouds-rifts rent asunder
Like a painted scroll unfurled,
Ridge and hollow rolling under
To the fringes of the world.
Now the weary guard are sleeping,
Now the great propellers churn,
Now the harbour lights are creeping
Into emptiness astern,
While the sentry wakes and watches
Plunging triangles of light
Where the water leaps and catches
At our escort in the night.
Great their happiness who seeing
Still with unbenighted eyes
Kin of theirs who gave them being,
Sun and earth that made them wise,
Die and feel their embers quicken
Year by year in summer time,
When the cotton grasses thicken
On the hills they used to climb.
Shall we also be as they be,
Mingled with our mother clay,
Or return no more it may be?
Who has knowledge, who shall say?
Yet we hope that from the bosom
Of our shaggy father Pan,
When the earth breaks into blossom
Richer from the dust of man,
Though the high Gods smite and slay us,
Though we come not whence we go,
As the host of Menelaus
Came there many years ago;
Yet the self-same wind shall bear us
From the same departing place
Out across the Gulf of Saros
And the peaks of Samothrace;
We shall pass in summer weather,
We shall come at eventide,
When the fells stand up together
And all quiet things abide;
Mixed with cloud and wind and river,
Sun-distilled in dew and rain,
One with Cumberland for ever
We shall go not forth again.
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Analysis (AI Assisted)
This poem captures a deep longing for a specific landscape—the hills and rivers of Cumberland—while exploring themes of memory, connection to nature, and the uncertainty of life and death. Its voice is both nostalgic and contemplative, moving from the personal love of a place to broader reflections on human existence and the cycles of nature. The imagery feels rich and tactile, yet the tone is calm, almost resigned, as though the speaker knows these memories may remain just that—memories.
The first few stanzas are steeped in nostalgia. The speaker paints an idyllic picture of Cumberland, its waterfalls, rivers, and heather-covered hills. The details are vivid: the “water-ouzel’s home,” the “Curlew’s faintly crying,” the “stainless amber” of the rivers. These aren’t generic images; they feel specific and personal, which makes the speaker’s grief for these places all the more poignant. The connection to nature isn’t distant or romanticized—it’s a lived experience, one that the speaker carries into their current setting, even as they physically leave it behind.
The poem shifts as the speaker brings us into their present reality. There’s a sense of separation: the “weary guard” and “great propellers” remind us that the speaker is far from Cumberland, perhaps aboard a ship, at war, or otherwise displaced. The contrast between the serene memories of the natural world and the cold, mechanical present is stark. Yet, the speaker doesn’t linger on despair; instead, they reflect on what it means to belong to a place and to a broader cycle of life.
The final stanzas delve into existential questions. What happens after death? Will the speaker return to the earth they love so much, becoming part of it in some eternal way, or is that return only metaphorical? The references to Pan, the “high Gods,” and the myths of Menelaus give the poem a mythic quality, connecting the speaker’s personal longing to timeless, universal ideas. Even amid the uncertainty—”Who has knowledge, who shall say?”—there’s a kind of peace. The speaker imagines becoming “one with Cumberland for ever,” blending with the natural world they revere, where “all quiet things abide.”
What stands out in this poem is its balance between personal nostalgia and universal reflection. The speaker’s memories of Cumberland are grounded in sensory details, but they lead to larger thoughts about life’s impermanence and our place in the natural world. The poem suggests that while we may not know what happens after death, there’s a hope that we remain connected to the places and the earth that shaped us. This hope feels quietly triumphant, giving the poem a sense of closure even as it leaves its questions unanswered.