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!