'Twas morn, and beauteous on the mountain's brow <br />(Hung with the clusters of the bending vine) <br />Shone in the early light, when on the Rhine <br />We bounded, and the white waves round the prow <br />In murmurs parted:--varying as we go, <br />Lo! the woods open, and the rocks retire, <br />As some gray convent-wall or glistening spire <br />'Mid the bright landscape's track unfolding slow! <br />Here dark, with furrowed aspect, like Despair, <br />Frowns the bleak cliff! There on the woodland's side <br />The shadowy sunshine pours its streaming tide; <br />Whilst Hope, enchanted with the scene so fair, <br />Counts not the hours of a long summer's day, <br />Nor heeds how fast the prospect winds away.<br /><br />William Lisle Bowles<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-rhine/
