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.
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!