Like blue-black arrows to and fro,
Now stooping where the rushes grow,
Now flashing o'er a shallow;
And overhead in blue and white
High Spring and Summer hold delight;
"All right!" the black-cap calls, "All right!"
His mate says from the sallow.
O dancing stream, O diamond day,
O charm of lilac-time and May.
O whispering meadows green and gay,