O gleaming, gliding river,
Where ash and alder lean,
Where sighing sedges shiver
By willows gray and green;
Upon thy shifting shadows
The yellow lily lies,
And all along thy meadows
Grow flowers of Paradise.
The red-roofed village sleeping,
Soft sounds of farm and fold,
The dappled shadows creeping,
The sunset's rose and gold,
Twilight of mist and glamour,
Noontide of sunlit ease,
How,‘ mid life's sordid clamour,
Our hearts will long for these!
Yet, since at heart we treasure
These weirs and woods and fields,
This crown of lovely leisure
Which Kentish country yields —
These, these are ours for ever,
Though dream-sweet days be done;
Through all our dreams our river
Will evermore flow on.