Who keeps no rod and tackle handy,
May hear thy "merry river" when
"It bubbles, dances, and grows sandy."
May sit beneath thy beech, and wish
To catch thy voice, if not thy fish:
May love to sit or stroll with thee,
Amidst the grassy water-meadows;
The culverkeys and cowslips see,
Dancing in summer's lights and shadows;
And watch yon youngster gathering stocks