Alas, the moon should ever beam br To show what man should never see!— br I saw a maiden on a stream, br And fair was she! br I staid awhile, to see her throw br Her tresses black, that all beset br The fair horizon of her brow br With clouds of jet. br I staid a little while to view br Her cheek, that wore in place of red br The bloom of water, tender blue, br Daintily spread. br I staid to watch, a little space, br Her parted lips if she would sing; br The waters closed above her face br With many a ring. br And still I staid a little more, br Alas! she never comes again! br I throw my flowers from the shore, br And watch in vain.