The streams that wind among the hills, And lost in pleasure slowly roam, While their deep joy the valley fills,— Ev'n these will leave their mountain home: So may it, love! with others be, But I will never wend from thee! The leaf forsakes the parent spray, The blossom quits the stem as fast, The rose-enamoured bird will stray, And leave his eglantine at last; So may it, love! with others be, But I will never wend from thee! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SEEDLING by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR SOMETIMES by THOMAS SAMUEL JONES JR. THE MOTHER by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE A MARTYR'S MASS; FATHER MIGUEL PRO, EXECUTED AY MEXICO CITY, 1927 by ALFRED BARRETT ON SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS by WILLIAM BLAKE |