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The Nameless Stream I found a Nameless Stream among the hills, And traced its course through many a changeful scene; Now gliding free through grassy uplands green, And stately forests, fed by limpid rills; Now dashing through dark grottos, where distils The poison dew; then issuing all serene 'Mong flowery meads, where snow-white lilies screen The wild-swan's whiter breast. At length it fills Its deepening channels; flowing calmly on To join the Ocean on his billowy beach. —But that bright bourne its current ne'er shall reach: It meets the thirsty Desert and is gone To waste oblivion! Let its story teach The fate of one — who sinks, like it, unknown. Thomas Pringle's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1187 |
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