And gay singing waters forgetting their mirth,
O’er vale and o’er upland I breathe a sad lay,
For the fair and the lovely all passing away.
My hours are ne’er stolen by sorrow or sleep,
When weary of forests I fly to the deep;
My course is to-day amid sunshine and bloom,
To-morrow, it may be with tempests and gloom;
But though I ne’er linger, I’m joyous and free,
If sighing ’mid blossoms, or sweeping the sea,
For my way is right on through the long-coming years,