James Thomson (11 September 1700 – 27 August 1748 / Ednam in Roxburghshire, Scotland)
Sunday up the River
MY love o'er the water bends dreaming;
It glideth and glideth away:
She sees there her own beauty, gleaming
Through shadow and ripple and spray.
O tell her, thou murmuring river,
As past her your light wavelets roll,
How steadfast that image for ever
Shines pure in pure depths of my soul.
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