Wave so light! though blue your furrow,
Bright, transparent, clear in tone,
’Tis the sky’s tints that you borrow,
Since no colour is your own.
Not the sky, but its poor image
Rests in your profound embrace;
Longing’s end can’t be envisaged,
Like your lack, it grows apace.
Wave! where you run clearest all the
Sky is mirrored in full state;
Ah! your longing but recalls the
Thought of what fate separates.
Heart! now cease your loud complaining!
Nature’s lack is just the same;
Be content, though nought’s remaining
But an image and a name.