To a Hurrying Streamlet

Nay, little stream, why so swiftly go?
Past flowery clefts your hurrying waters flow
Past birch and hawthorn, shimmering in the sun,
Past fern-filled tracts; on and on you run,
To yon verge unseen. Ah, slower go!
Pause little stream. The Ocean lies below.

Short-lived thy course, short-lived will be thy dirge,
Short-lived thy sun-time, steep and dark the verge,
Here redstarts flit, and sometimes thrushes sing,
On yonder marge the cormorant flaps his wing.
Short course! Deep drop! Brave courage! Onward go,
Drop little stream; the Ocean waits below.