 | Lyra Pastoralis |  |
92
The Driffield Streams
Without a name they roll along—
Translucent streams of current strong;
Through leagues of level green they slide,
Washing the meads in circles wide,
Waking the mill-wheel's undersong.
Translucent streams of current strong;
Through leagues of level green they slide,
Washing the meads in circles wide,
Waking the mill-wheel's undersong.
Their depths the glancing fishes throng,
Or hide the waving weeds among;
By anglers loved, they yet abide
Without a name.
Or hide the waving weeds among;
By anglers loved, they yet abide
Without a name.
Happy the lives whose sunny tide
With no self-seeking is allied;
Pleasure and use to them belong,
Well-doers in a world of wrong—
Content through lowly ways to glide
Without a name!
With no self-seeking is allied;
Pleasure and use to them belong,
Well-doers in a world of wrong—
Content through lowly ways to glide
Without a name!
| Lyra Pastoralis | |