Faster than fairies, faster than witches,
Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches;
And charging along like troops in a battle,
All through the Meadows the horses and cattle:
All of the sights of the hill and plain
Fly as thick as driving rain
And ever again in the wink of an eye
Painted stations whistle by.
Here is a child who crambles and scramles
All by himself and gathering brambles
Here is a tramp who stands and gazes
And there is the green for stringing the daisies
Here is a cart run away in the road
Lumping along with man and load
Here is a mill and there is a river
Each a glimpse gone forever?