My love o'er the water bends dreaming;
It glideth and glideth away:
She sees there her own beauty, gleaming
Through shadow and ripple and spray.
O tell her, thou murmuring river,
As past her your light wavelets roll,
How steadfast that image for ever
Shines pure in pure depths of my soul.
Sunday Up The River
James Thomson
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Poem topics: away, beauty, light, river, water, soul, shadow, love, I love you, pure, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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