The stream with languid murmur creeps,
       &nbspIn Lumin's flowery vale:
Beneath the dew the Lily weeps
       &nbspSlow-waving to the gale.


'Cease, restless gale!' it seems to say,
       &nbsp'Nor wake me with thy sighing!
The honours of my vernal day
       &nbspOn rapid wing are flying.


'To-morrow shall the Traveller come
       &nbspWho late beheld me blooming:
His searching eye shall vainly roam
       &nbspThe dreary vale of Lumin.'


With eager gaze and wetted cheek
       &nbspMy wonted haunts along,
Thus, faithful Maiden! thou shalt seek
       &nbspThe Youth of simplest song.

But I along the breeze shall roll
       &nbspThe voice of feeble power;
And dwell, the Moon-beam of thy soul,
       &nbspIn Slumber's nightly hour.