(to a brook near the village of Corston.) <br /> <br />As thus I bend me o'er thy babbling stream <br /> And watch thy current, Memory's hand pourtrays <br /> The faint form'd scenes of the departed days, <br /> Like the far forest by the moon's pale beam <br /> Dimly descried yet lovely. I have worn <br /> Upon thy banks the live-long hour away, <br /> When sportive Childhood wantoned thro' the day, <br /> Joy'd at the opening splendour of the morn, <br /> Or as the twilight darken'd, heaved the sigh <br /> Thinking of distant home; as down my cheek <br /> At the fond thought slow stealing on, would speak <br /> The silent eloquence of the full eye. <br /> Dim are the long past days, yet still they please <br />As thy soft sounds half heard, borne on the inconstant breeze.<br /><br />Robert Southey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-06-3/
