I come from haunts of coot and hern,
I make a sudden sally,
And sparkle out among the fern,
And bicker down a valley.
By thirty hills I hurry down,
Or slip between the ridges,
By thirty thorps, a little town,
And half a hundred bridges.
Till at last by Phillip'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 in 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 forever.
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 silver 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.
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 forever.
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