And trim her nautical array—
Alas! she swiftly sculls away,
And leaves the "Swan" at Streatley!
She's gone! Yes, now she's out of sight!
She's gone! But still the sun is bright,
The sky is blue, the breezes light
With thyme are scented sweetly:
She may return! So here I'll stay,
And, just to pass the time away,
I smoke and weave a lazy lay