And the Roses and Sweet-Williams and Canterbury Bells.
Far away as some strange planet seemed the old world's dust and din,
And the trout in sun-warmed shallows hardly seemed to stir a fin,
And there's never a clock to tell you how the hurrying world goes on
In the little ivied steeple down in drowsy Bullington.
Small and sleepy there it nestled, seeming far from hastening Time,
As a teeny-tiny village in some quaint old nursery rhyme,
And a teeny-tiny river by a teeny-tiny weir
Sang a teeny-tiny ditty that I stayed a while to hear:—
"Oh the stream runs to the river and the river to the sea;