Row, ladies, row! It will do you good:
Pleasant the stream under Cliefden Wood:
When our skiff with the river drops down again,
Glad you will be of some iced champagne.
O, a boat on the river is doubly dear
When you've nothing to do but adore and steer.
Row, darlings, row! Whether stroke or bow
Is sweeter to look at, better to row,
Is a question that plagues not me, as I laze,
And on their graceful movement gaze.
'Tis the happiest hour of the sultry year:
The swift oars twinkle; I smoke and steer.
Row, beauties, row! 'Tis uncommon hot:
I _can_ row stroke, but I'd rather not.
As we meet the sunset's afterglow,
Two absolute angels seem to row;
Wingless they are, so of flight no fear--
Home to dinner I mean to steer.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Father Thames_ (_to Henley Naiads_). "Don't be alarmed,
my dears. If he comes within our reach, I'll soon settle his business!"
["The G. W. R. Company must have known that their contemplated line
from Marlow to Henley would raise a storm of opposition against any
interference with the Thames at spots so sacred to all
oarsmen."--_Vide "A Correspondent" in "Times."_]
]
* * * * *