HE sat the quiet stream beside, His white feet laving in the tide, And watch'd the pleasant waters glide Beneath the skies of summer. She singing came from mound to mound, Her footfall on the thymy ground Unheard; his tranquil haunt she found -- That beautiful new comer. He said -- "My own Glycerium! The pulses of the woods are dumb, How well I knew that thou wouldst come, Beneath the branches gliding." The dreamer fancied he had heard Her footstep, whensoever stirr'd The summer wind or languid bird Amid the boughs abiding. She dipp'd her fingers in the brook, And gaz'd awhile with happy look Upon the windings of a book Of Cyprian hymnings tender. The ripples to the ocean raced -- The flying minutes pass'd in haste: His arm was round the maiden's waist, That waist so very slender. O cruel Time! O tyrant Time! Whose winter all the streams of rhyme, The flowing waves of love sublime, In bitter passage freezes. I only see the scambling goat, The lotos on the waters float, While an old shepherd with an oat Pipes to the autumn breezes. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TWO SONGS OF A FOOL: 2 by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS ON AN INFANT WHICH DIED BEFORE BAPTISM by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE SEVEN TIMES SIX [ - GIVING IN MARRIAGE] by JEAN INGELOW THE REALM OF FANCY by JOHN KEATS LONDON CHURCHES by RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES OVERTONES by WILLIAM ALEXANDER PERCY TO ALISON CUNNINGHAM; FROM HER BOY by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON |