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Gracefully, gracefully glides our bark
On the bosom of Father Thames,
And before her bows the wavelets dark
Break into a thousand gems.

— Thomas Noel

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More quotes by Thomas Noel

Rattle his bones over the stones!
He's only a pauper, whom nobody owns!

By the waters of Life we sat together,
Hand in hand, in the golden days
Of the beautiful early summer weather,
When skies were purple and breath was praise.

There's a grim one-horse hearse in a jolly round trot;
To the churchyard a pauper is going I wot;
The road it is rough, and the hearse has no springs,
And hark to the dirge that the sad driver sings—
Rattle his bones over the stones,
He's only a pauper whom nobody owns.

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Attribution

Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Thomas Noel (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.