Classic Poem

On the bank the maiden sat,
Bathed her feet there in the brook,
When a bird above her sang:
“Maiden, trouble not the brook!
Heaven is no more mirrored there.”
Then the maiden raised her glance
And with weeping eyes she said:
“Do not sorrow for the brook,
Soon the brook will clear again.
When you saw me on a day
Standing here beside a youth,
Unto him you should have said:
‘Trouble not the maiden's soul,
For it never will be clear,
Never mirror heaven again.’”