See Where The Thames, The Purest Stream
See where the Thames, the purest stream
That wavers to the noon-day beam,
Divides the vale below;
While like a vein of liquid ore
His waves enrich the happy shore,
Still shining as they flow.
Nor yet, my Delia, to the main
Runs the sweet tide without a stain
Unsullied as it seems;
Thy nymphs of many a sable flood
Deform with streaks of oozy mud
The bosom of the Thames.
Some idle rivulets, that feed
And suckle every noisome weed,
A sandy bottom boast;
For ever bright, for ever clear,
Tho trifling shallow rills appear
In their own channel lost.
Thus fares it with the human soul,
Where copious floods of passion roll,
By genuine love supplied;
Fair in itself the current shows,
But ah! a thousand anxious woes
Pollute the noble tide.
These are emotions known to few;
For where at most a vapoury dew
Surrounds the tranquil heart,
Then as the triflers never prove
The glad excess of real love,
They never prove the smart.
O then my life, at last relent!
Though cruel the reproach I sent,
My sorrow was unfeigned:
Your passion, had I loved you not,
You might have scorned, renounced, forgot,
And I had ne'er complained.
While you indulge a groundless fear,
The imaginary woes you bear
Are real woes to me:
But thou art kind, and good thou art,
Nor wilt, by wronging thine own heart,
Unjustly punish me.
How blessed the youth whom fate ordains
[...] Read more
poem by William Cowper
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
