THE KIVER REVISITED 387
Thy smooth and glassy breast gives back
The image of the same blue sky ; As brownly darkening o'er thy track,
The rocks o'erhangthee from on high.
O, why no longer in my breast
Dost thou a pleasing grief excite ? I see thee, but my soul's at rest ;
I view thee with a calm deli<rht.
��Have grander prospects made thee tame ?
Or hath experience me made dull ? Sweet stream, thou art in all the same ;
I still can deem thee beautiful.
But tears and raptures yield at last To weight of more substantial care ;
And love, more poor than in the past, Foregoes the luxury of despair.
Through Fancy's glass of magic dyes
So oft false colors have I seen. Which changed, when viewed with naked eyes,
From rosy red to faded green, —
So oft I've known fair skies o'ercast,
And the warm sunshine veiled in showers,
So oft have found a naked waste,
Where distance clothed the scene with flowers,-
So oft, ere youth's first years were past,
I laid my loved ones in the dust, That I have learned, fair stream, at last
To look on all things with distrust.
�� �
