ODE TO THE NESS.
Child of the lake! whose silvery gleam
Cheers the rough desert, dark and lone,[11]—
A brown, deep, sullen, restless stream,
With ceaseless speed thou hurriest on.
And yet thy banks with flowers are gay;
The sun laughs on thy troubled breast;
And o'er thy tides the zephyrs play,
Though nought be thine of quiet rest.[12]
Stream of the lake! to him who strays,