Faster than fairies, faster than witches,
Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches;
    And charging along like troops in a battle,
   All through the meadows the horses and cattle:
All of the sights of the hill and the plain
Fly as thick as driving rain;
    And ever again, in the wink of an eye,
    Painted stations whistle by.

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Here is a child who clambers and scrambles,
All by himself and gathering brambles;
    Here is a tramp who stands and gazes;
    And there is the green for stringing the daisies!
Here is a cart run away in the road
Lumping along with man and load;
    And here is a mill and there is a river:
    Each a glimpse and gone for ever!

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