The Poetical Works of Thomas Hood, by Thomas Hood

The Water Lady.

Alas, the moon should ever beam

To show what man should never see! —

I saw a maiden on a stream,

And fair was she!

I staid awhile, to see her throw

Her tresses black, that all beset

The fair horizon of her brow

With clouds of jet.

I staid a little while to view

Her cheek, that wore in place of red

The bloom of water, tender blue,

Daintily spread.

I staid to watch, a little space,

Her parted lips if she would sing;

The waters closed above her face

With many a ring.

And still I staid a little more,

Alas! she never comes again!

I throw my flowers from the shore,

And watch in vain.

I know my life will fade away,

I know that I must vainly pine,

For I am made of mortal clay,

But she’s divine!

Suggested, according to Hood’s son, by a water-color drawing by Keats’s friend Severn.

Last updated Sunday, March 27, 2016 at 11:55