Edward Thomas’s speaker walks the shore at sunset, the sea glassy except for a single wave creasing the sand. Suddenly a shaft of light breaks through the clouds, forming a radiant footbridge that seems to stretch across the water directly to him. He feels elated, certain that he alone is witnessing this marvel. As he strides along, he finds himself repeating the refrain of an old sailors’ song: “I’ll go no more a-roving / With you, fair maid.” The tune, a mix of lewdness and wild charm, drifts into the dusk with the cries of gulls, its carefree melancholy perfectly fitting his mood. The poem captures a fleeting moment of solitary joy—the sheer luck of seeing something beautiful, and the way a half-remembered song can voice a quiet resolution to leave restlessness behind. It’s wistful, calm, and gently amused at life’s small, private gifts.
An Old Song — Summary
THE sun set, the wind fell, the sea Was like a mirror shaking: The one small wave that clapped the land A mile-long snake of foam was making Where tide had smoothed and wind had dried The vacant sand.
A light divided the swollen clouds And lay most perfectly Like a straight narrow footbridge bright That crossed over the sea to me; And no one else in the whole world Saw that same sight.
I walked elate, my bridge always Just one step from my feet: A robin sang, a shade in shade: And all I did was to repeat: "I'll go no more a-roving With you, fair maid."
The sailors' song of merry loving With dusk and sea-gull's mewing Mixed sweet, the lewdness far outweighed By the wild charm the chorus played: "I'll go no more a-roving With you, fair maid: A-roving, a-roving, since roving's been my ruin, I'll go no more a-roving with you, fair maid."
In Amsterdam there dwelt a maid-- Mark well what I do say-- In Amsterdam there dwelt a maid And she was a mistress of her trade: I'll go no more a-roving With you, fair maid: A-roving, a-roving, since roving's been my ruin, I'll go no more a-roving with you, fair maid.