O, how fleetly the moments fly!

Drifting down on the dear old River,

O, the music that interweaves!

The ripples run and the sedges shiver,

O, the song of the lazy leaves!

And far-off sounds—for the night so clear is—

Awake the echoes of bygone times;

The muffled roar of the distant weir is

Cheered by the clang of the Marlow chimes.

Drifting down in the cloudless weather,