While slowly wanders thy sequestered stream, <br />WAINSBECK, the mossy-scattered rocks among, <br />In fancy's ear making a plaintive song <br />To the dark woods above, that waving seem <br />To bend o'er some enchanted spot, removed <br />From life's vain coil; I listen to the wind, <br />And think I hear meek Sorrow's plaint, reclined <br />O'er the forsaken tomb of him she loved!-- <br />Fair scenes, ye lend a pleasure, long unknown, <br />To him who passes weary on his way;-- <br />Yet recreated here he may delay <br />A while to thank you; and when years have flown, <br />And haunts that charmed his youth he would renew, <br />In the world's crowd he will remember you.<br /><br />William Lisle Bowles<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-river-wainsbeck/
