Sweet stream-fed glen, why say “farewell” to thee br Who far'st so well and find'st for ever smooth br The brow of Time where man may read no ruth? br Nay, do thou rather say “farewell” to me, br Who now fare forth in bitterer fantasy br Than erst was mine where other shade might soothe br By other streams, what while in fragrant youth br The bliss of being sad made melancholy. br And yet, farewell! For better shalt thou fare br When children bathe sweet faces in thy flow br And happy lovers blend sweet shadows there br In hours to come, than when an hour ago br Thine echoes had but one man's sighs to bear br And thy trees whispered what he feared to know.