A creek is fair and gurgles glad abed,
Her jewellèd splendour shifting with the wind.
Not once repeating as she's swiftly led
From shoals to bank and pond to pool in kind.
The quiet pool is but a seeming rest
As deep beneath her aqua blood slides on
To ripple in the shallows but a guest
Ne'er lingering but eager to be gone.
So oft is love a transient delight--
Too swift to leave the open hand outstretched
And, like the stream, unconscious of the slight
To one who'd reached and now forsaken, wretch'd.
The pent-up stream becomes a stagnant pool:
A captive love is loved but by a fool.