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 beamTo shew what man should never see!I saw a maiden on a stream,And fair was she.
I staid awhile to see her throwHer tresses back, that all besetThe fair horizon of her browWith locks of jet.
I staid a little while to viewHer 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 faceWith 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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