Page:Ethel Churchill Fragments II.pdf/6



My heart hath turned aside From its early dreams; To me their course has been Like mountain streams.

Bright and pure they left Their place of birth; Soon on every wave Came taints of earth.

Weeds grew upon the banks, And, as the waters swept, A bad or useless part Of all they kept,

Till it reached the plain below, An altered thing Bearing gloomy trace,— Of its wandering.