And long,—his heart disconsolate—
He heeded not the river's rushing.
But tears will cease. And now the boy
Once more looked forth upon the stream:
'Twas morning still, and lo! a toy,
Bright as the last one, in the beam!
He rose—pursued—the bubble caught;
It burst—he sighed—then others chased;
And as I parted, still he sought
New bubbles in their downward haste.