LINES WRITTEN NEAR RICHMOND UPON THE THAMES, AT EVENING

                    How richly glows the water's breast
                    Before us, tinged with evening hues,
                    While, facing thus the crimson west,
                    The boat her silent course pursues!
                    And see how dark the backward stream!
                    A little moment past so smiling!
                    And still, perhaps, with faithless gleam,
                    Some other loiterers beguiling.

                    Such views the youthful Bard allure;
                    But, heedless of the following gloom,
                    He deems their colours shall endure
                    Till peace go with him to the tomb.
                    — And let him nurse his fond deceit,
                    And what if he must die in sorrow!
                    Who would not cherish dreams so sweet,
                    Though grief and pain may come to-morrow?

                    Glide gently, thus for ever glide,
                    О Thames! that other bards may see
                    As lovely visions by thy side
                    As now, fair river! come to me.
                    О glide, fair stream! for ever so,
                    Thy quiet soul on all bestowing,
                    Till all our minds for ever flow
                    As thy deep waters now are flowing.

                    Vain thought! — Yet be as now thou art,
                    That in thy waters may be seen
                    The image of a poet's heart,
                    How bright, how solemn, how serene!
                    Such as did once the Poet bless,
                    Who murmuring here a later ditty,
                    Could find no refuge from distress
                    But in the milder grief of pity.

                    Now let us, as we float along,
                    For _him_ suspend the dashing oar;
                    And pray that never child of song
                    May know that Poet's sorrows more.
                    How calm! how still! the only sound,
                    The dripping of the oar suspended!
                    — The evening darkness gathers round
                    By virtue's holiest Powers attended.

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