Sonnet 6 - To a Brook near the Village of Corston

As thus I bend me o'er thy babbling streamAnd watch thy current, Memory's hand pourtraysThe faint form'd scenes of the departed days,Like the far forest by the moon's pale beamDimly descried yet lovely. I have wornUpon thy banks the live-long hour away.When sportive Childhood wantoned thro' the day,Joy'd at the opening splendour of the morn,Or as the twilight darken'd, heaved the sighThinking of distant home; as down my cheekAt the fond thought slow stealing on, would speakThe silent eloquence of the full eye.Dim are the long past days, yet still they pleaseAs thy soft sounds half heard, borne on the inconstant breeze.1794.