Page:Poems on Various Subjects - Coleridge (1796).djvu/50

 Unboastful Stream! Thy fount with pebbled falls The faded form of past delight recalls, What time the morning fun of Hope arose, And all was joy; save when another's woes A transient gloom upon my soul imprest, Like passing clouds impictur'd on thy breast. Life's current then ran sparkling to the noon Or silv'ry stole beneath the pensive Moon. Ah! now it works rude brakes and thorns among, Or o'er the rough rock bursts and foams along!