The Youth By The Brook

Beside the brook, the boy reclined

And wove his flowery wreath,

And to the waves the wreath consigned

The waves danced beneath.

"So fleet mine hours," he sighed, "away

Like waves that restless flow:

And so my flowers of youth decay

Like those that float below."

"Ask not why I, alone on earth,

Am sad in life's young time;

To all the rest are hope and mirth

When spring renews its prime.

Alas! the music Nature makes,

In thousand songs of gladness

While charming all around me, wakes

My heavy heart to sadness."

"Ah! vain to me the joys that break

From spring, voluptuous are;

For only one 't is mine to seek

The near, yet ever far!

I stretch my arms, that shadow-shape

In fond embrace to hold;

Still doth the shade the clasp escape

The heart is unconsoled!"

"Come forth, fair friend, come forth below,

And leave thy lofty hall,

The fairest flowers the spring can know

In thy dear lap shall fall!

Clear glides the brook in silver rolled,

Sweet carols fill the air;

The meanest hut hath space to hold

A happy loving pair!"