| |
| OH, Bisham Banks are fresh and fair, | |
| And Quarry Woods are green, | |
| And pure and sparkling is the air, | |
| Enchanting is the scene! | |
| I love the music of the weir, | 5 |
| As swift the stream runs down, | |
| For oh, the water’s deep and clear | |
| That flows by Marlow town! | |
| |
| When London’s getting hot and dry, | |
| And half the season’s done, | 10 |
| To Marlow you should quickly fly, | |
| And bask there in the sun. | |
| There pleasant quarters you may find,— | |
| The “Angler” or the “Crown” | |
| Will suit you well, if you ’re inclin’d | 15 |
| To stay in Marlow town. | |
| |
| I paddle up to Harleyford, | |
| And sometimes I incline | |
| To cushions take with lunch aboard, | |
| And play with rod and line; | 20 |
| For in a punt I love to laze, | |
| And let my face get brown; | |
| And dream away the sunny days | |
| By dear old Marlow town. | |
| |
| I go to luncheon at the Lawn, | 25 |
| I muse, I sketch, I rhyme; | |
| I headers take at early dawn, | |
| I list to All Saints’ chime. | |
| And in the river, flashing bright, | |
| Dull care I strive to drown,— | 30 |
| And get a famous appetite | |
| At pleasant Marlow town. | |
| |
| So when no longer London life | |
| You feel you can endure, | |
| Just quit its noise, its whirl, its strife, | 35 |
| And try the “Marlow cure.” | |
| You ’ll smooth the wrinkles on your brow, | |
| And scare away each frown,— | |
| Feel young again once more, I vow, | |
| At quaint old Marlow town. | 40 |
| |
| Here Shelley dream’d and thought and wrote, | |
| And wander’d o’er the leas; | |
| And sung and drifted in his boat | |
| Beneath the Bisham trees. | |
| So let me sing, although I ’m no | 45 |
| Great poet of renown, | |
| Of hours that much too quickly go | |
| At good old Marlow town! | |
| |
