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Poem by Thomas Lovell Beddoes
It is a lovely stream; its wavelets purl As if they echoed to the fall and rise Of the capricious breeze; each upward curl That splashes pearl, mirrors the fairy eyes Of viewless passer, and the billows hurl Their sparkles on her lap, as over she flies. And see, where onward whirls, within a ring Of smoothest dimples, a dark foxglove bell Half stifled by the gush encircling; Perchance some tiny sprite crawled to that shell To sleep away the noon, and winds did swing Him into rest; for the warm sun was well Shaded off by the long and silky down; So I will save it, lest the elf should drown.
Thomas Lovell Beddoes
Thomas Lovell Beddoes's other poems:
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