Poetry Archives

As slowly wanders thy forsaken stream,
  Wenbeck! the mossy-scatter’d rocks among,
  In fancy’s ear still making plaintive song
To the dark woods above: ah! sure I seem
  To meet some friendly Genius in the gloom,
And in each breeze a pitying voice I hear
  Like sorrow’s sighs upon misfortune’s tomb.
Ah! soothing are your quiet scenes—the tear
  Of him who passes weary on his way
Shall thank you, as he turns to bid adieu:
  Onward a cheerless pilgrim he may stray,
Yet oft as musing memory shall review
  The scenes that cheer’d his path with fairer ray,
Delightful haunts, he will remember you.