OUR boat has drifted with the stream br That stirs the river's full sweet bosom br And now she stays where gold flags gleam br By meadow-sweet's pale foam of blossom. br br br Sedge-warblers sing the sun the song br The nightingale sings to the shadows; br Forget-me-nots grow all along br The fringes of the happy meadows. br br br See the wet lilies' golden beads! br The river-nymphs for necklace string them, br And in the sighing of the reeds br You hear the song their lovers sing them. br br br Gold sun, blue air, green shimmering leaves, br The weir's old song--the wood's old story-- br Such spells the enchanting Summer weaves br She holds me in a web of glory. br br br And you--with head against my arm br And subtle wiles that seek to hold me-- br Not even you can add a charm br To the sweet sorceries that enfold me. br br br Yet lean there still! The hour is ours; br If we should move the charm might shiver br And joyless sun and scentless flowers br Might mock a disenchanted river.