Flow On, Sweet River! Like His Verse Who Lies Beneath This Sculptured Hearse Nor Wait Beside The Churchyard Wall For Him Who Cannot Hear Thy Call. Thy Playmate Once; I See Him Now A Boy With Sunshine On His Brow, And Hear In Stratford'S Quiet Street The Patter Of His Little Feet. I See Him By Thy Shallow Edge Wading Knee-Deep Amid The Sedge; And Lost In Thought, As If Thy Stream Were The Swift River Of A Dream. He Wonders Whitherward It Flows; And Fain Would Follow Where It Goes, To The Wide World, That Shall Erelong Be Filled With His Melodious Song. Flow On, Fair Stream! That Dream Is O'Er; He Stands Upon Another Shore; A Vaster River Near Him Flows, And Still He Follows Where It Goes.