Still glides the gentle streamlet on,
With shifting current new and strange;
The water that was here is gone,
But those green shadows do not change.
Serene, or ruffled by the storm,
On present waves as on the past,
The mirrored grave retains its form,
The self-same trees their semblance cast.
The hue each fleeting globule wears,
That drop bequeaths it to the next,
One picture still the surface bears,
To illustrate the murmured text.
So, love, however time may flow,
Fresh hours pursuing those that flee
One constant image still shall show
My tide of life is true to thee!
More verses by Thomas Hood
- There Is Dew For The Flow'Ret
- The Sea Of Death
- Lines On Seeing My Wife And Two Children Sleeping In The Same Chamber
- The Lament Of Toby, The Learned Pig
- Ode On A Distant Prospect Of Clapham Academy