I come from haunts of coot and hem;
I make a sudden sally
And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley.
I chatter over stony ways,
In little sharps and trebles,
I bubble into eddying bays,
I babble on the pebbles.
With many a curve my banks
I fret By many a field and fallow
And many a fairy foreland set
With willow-weed and mallow.
I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
I slide by hazel covers
I move the sweet forget-me-nots
That grow for happy lovers.
I murmur under moon and stars
In brambly wildernesses;
I linger by my shingly bars;
I loiter round my cresses
And out again I curve and flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.
ALFRED LORD TENNYSON
Murmur : to utter in a low tone
Linger : to delay
Loiter : to idle
Brimming : overfull