Classic Poem

I.

Water of Alders! where is the spell
That binds me in spirit to thee?
I cared not to drop my farewell,
For I left no loved things, in meadow or dell,
Thou wert but a stranger with me.

II.

Yet, in my fancy, often I turn
From the streams of my choice, all apart —
From the sylvan and blossomy burn
To the vale where thy waters murmur and mourn,
Their memory hangs on the heart!

III.

Often in vision tempt me again
Thy wild roving shoals; but I bend
O'er the silent shapes of the slain,
Not for me from the depths of the billowy main
The living thy channels ascend.

IV.

Swift as an arrow glancing below
Speeds the silver trout of the sea,
And ever on thy autumnal flow
The salmon laving his bosom of snow
Wends hill-ward, but not for me!

V.

Water of Alders! memory brings
Me back to each trodden fane,
And its silent recall of banished things
Unfetters Affection's buried springs
And bids them gush forth again!