The Bolney backwaters are shaded from heat;
The rustle of poplars on Remenham Hill is,
Mid breezes æstival, enchantingly sweet!
When hay-scented meadows with oarsmen are crowded—
Whose bright tinted blazers gay toilettes outvie—
When sunshine is hot and the sky is unclouded,
O, Henley is splendid in lovely July!
Ah me! what a revel of exquisite colours,
What costumes in pink and in white and in blue,
By smart canoistes and by pretty girl-scullers,