MY love o'er the water bends dreaming; <br /> It glideth and glideth away: <br />She sees there her own beauty, gleaming <br /> Through shadow and ripple and spray. <br /> <br />O tell her, thou murmuring river, <br /> As past her your light wavelets roll, <br />How steadfast that image for ever <br /> Shines pure in pure depths of my soul.<br /><br />James Thomson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sunday-up-the-river/
