Forget Me Not/1826/The Water Nymph

For other versions of this work, see The Water Nymph.
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THE WATER NYMPH.

Alas, that e'er the moon should beam
To shew what man should never see!
I saw a maiden on a stream,
And fair was she.

I staid awhile to see her throw
Her tresses back, that all beset
The fair horizon of her brow
With locks of jet.

I staid a little while to view
Her cheek, that wore, in place of red,
The bloom of water, tender blue,
Daintily spread.

I staid to watch a little space,
Her parted lips—if she would sing:
The waters closed above her face
With many a ring.

And still I watch'd a little more—
Alas! she never comes again;
I cast my flowers from the shore—
But all in vain.

I know my life must wear away—
I know that I must vainly pine;
For I am made of mortal clay—
But she's divine!
T. HOOD.

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