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 thorpes, a little town,
And half a hundred bridges.
Till last by Philip's farm I flow To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.
I chatter over stony ways,
In little sharps and trebles,
I bubble into eddying bays,
I babble on the pebbles.
With many a curve my banks I fret By many a field and fallow,
And many a fairy foreland set With willow-weed and mallow.
I chatter, chatter, as I flow To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.
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 waterbreak 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 for ever.
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.
I murmur under moon and stars In brambly wildernesses;
I linger by my shingly bars;
I loiter round my cresses;
And out again I curve and flow To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.
