I took this last Monday in Romsey, by Sadler's Mill (near the Salmon Leap of my childhood, though sadly the salmon don't leap there any more). I think it captures something of the beauty of my home river, though not the startling swiftness of it. Limpid yes, limping no.

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Date: 2015-08-25 12:37 am (UTC)Nine
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Date: 2015-08-25 04:40 am (UTC)It's beautiful. Is there waterweed showing the current under the surface? It looks like seaweed, streaming.
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Date: 2015-08-25 07:43 am (UTC)Clad in a Vesture of unknowen Geare,
And uncouth Fashion, yet her well became;
That seem'd like Silver, sprinkled here and there
With glittering Spangs, that did like Stars appear,
And wav'd upon, like water Chamelot,
To hide the Metal, which yet every where
Bewray'd it self, to let Men plainly wot,
It was no mortal Work, that seem'd and yet was not.
Her goodly Locks adown her Back did flow
Unto her Waste, with Flow'rs bescattered,
The which ambrosial Odours forth did throw
To all about, and all her Shoulders spred
As a new Spring; and likewise on her Head
A Chapelet of sundry Flow'rs she wore,
From under which the dewy Humour shed,
Did trickle down her Hair, like to the hore
Congealed little Drops, which do the Morn adore.
On her, two pretty Handmaids did attend,
One call'd the Theise, the other call'd the Crane;
Which on her waited, things amiss to mend,
And both behind up-held her spreading Train;
Under the which, her Feet appeared plain,
Her silver Feet, fair wash'd against this day:
And her before there passed Pages twain,
Both clad in Colours like, and like Array,
The Doune and eke the Frith, both which prepar'd her way.
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Date: 2015-08-25 09:05 am (UTC)I tried to evoke the Test in Death of a Ghost:
I think this captured the luminous weed, at least!
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