In an Album
Day-dreaming one-tide, upon a sunny mountain,
When nought but the wild-birds and waterfalls were near,
Heard I a voice like the music of a fountain,
Its language as liquid, its melody as clear.
Murmuring deeply, the stream methought addrest me,
(If that which addrest me indeed were but a stream):
" Say, hath ill-fortune, or idleness, possest thee,
To lose all thy life in a melancholy dream? "
" Buoyant and gladsome, my step was free as thine is,
When fresh from the life-spring of Nature, " I replied;
" Streamlet! thy course will perchance be slow as mine is,
And lonely like me thro' the valleys thou wilt glide:
Oft at a green bank delaying thy blue motion,
Thou'lt stretch thee to sleep, with a scarcely-heaving breast;
World-wearied, sun-sick, thou'lt wind at length to ocean,
And seek in the loss of thy being to be blest! "
When nought but the wild-birds and waterfalls were near,
Heard I a voice like the music of a fountain,
Its language as liquid, its melody as clear.
Murmuring deeply, the stream methought addrest me,
(If that which addrest me indeed were but a stream):
" Say, hath ill-fortune, or idleness, possest thee,
To lose all thy life in a melancholy dream? "
" Buoyant and gladsome, my step was free as thine is,
When fresh from the life-spring of Nature, " I replied;
" Streamlet! thy course will perchance be slow as mine is,
And lonely like me thro' the valleys thou wilt glide:
Oft at a green bank delaying thy blue motion,
Thou'lt stretch thee to sleep, with a scarcely-heaving breast;
World-wearied, sun-sick, thou'lt wind at length to ocean,
And seek in the loss of thy being to be blest! "
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