Thou lone and lovely water, would I were
A dweller by thy deepest solitude!
How weary am I of my present life,
Its falsehoods, and its fantasies—its noise
And the unkindly hurry of the crowd,
'Mid whom my days are number'd! I would watch
The tremulous vibration of the rays
The moon sends down to kiss thy quiet waves;
And when they died, wish I could die like them,
Melting upon the still and silvery air:
Or when the autumn scatters the wan leaves
Like ghosts, I'd meditate above their fall,
And say "So perish all our earthly hopes."
So is the heart left desolate and bare,
And on us falls the shadow of the tomb,
Before we rest within it—