Down there at Ducklington
The ducks are never old;
The geese are always goslings,
The catkins always gold.
The orchards blossom ever
Like foam heaped on a cup,
Down there at Ducklington
Where never a duck grows up!
Down there at Ducklington
The years linger yet
At April, with its little leaves
And ash-buds of jet.
And I could be a child again
And drink, as from a cup,
Youth, down at Ducklington,
Where never a duck grows up!
Down there at Ducklington,
With its ducklings ever young,
With its year ever at April,
And the songs of June unsung--
The potion of eternal youth
Is brewed there in a cup--
Down there at Ducklington
Where never a duck grows up!
_L. GIELGUD_
(_MAGDALEN_)