  I come from haunts of coot and hern, I make a sudden sally, And sparkle out among the fern, To bicker down a valley. By thirty hills I hurry down, Or slip between the ridges, By twenty thorps, a little town, And half a hundred bridges. I chatter over stony ways, In little sharps and trebles, I babble on the pebbles. I wind about, and in and out, With here a blossom sailing, And here and there a lusty trout, And here and there a grayling. And here and there a foamy flake Upon me, as I travel With many a silvery water break Above the golden gravel, And draw them all along, and flow To join the brimming river; For men may come and men may go, But I go on forever. I steal by lawns and grassy plots, I slide by hazel covers; I move the sweet forget-me-nots, That grow for happy lovers. I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, Among my skimming swallows; I make the netted sunbeam dance Against my sandy shallows. And out again I curve and flow To join the brimming river; For men may come and men may go, But I go on forever. |
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