Vigil and vision :: :: University of Virginia Library

THE water wandered singing by my feet,
As through the dells, with many a red-boled beech
O'erarched, I went, that from the fiery reach
The wood-ways warded of the noontide heat.
Through thronging ferns the silver stream did fleet,
Past range on range of temples, each on each
Ensuing still, without the tongue of speech
That told the story of a time effete.
Ah me, thou tiny, trotting, trickling thread,
Mid age-bleached rock and maze of living green
Thy little life that livest, never dead,
How many a generation hast thou seen!
How many an age hath come and gone, whilst thou
Thy careless ditty chantedst then as now!