As kneeling at a water's edge
Into my heart when I look down,
Thy face uprising from the sedge
Lies on the surface water-blown;

And while the current pushes rings
About thy cheek, thy chin and brow,
I muse and ponder many things:
For who am I? am I not thou?

'T is therefore all these idle hours
I spend alone and none knows why:
I see thee in the water-flowers
Upon the current doubtfully.