The Lover's Songster/The Streamlet

by Henry Bate Dudley

The Streamlet.

THE streamlet that flow'd round her cot
⁠All the charms of my Emily knew,
How oft has its course been forgot,
⁠While it paus'd her dear image to woo.
Believe me, the fond silver tide
Knew from whence it deriv'd the fair prize,
For silently swelling with pride,
⁠It reflected her back to the skies.