Alas, The Moon Should Ever Beam To Show What Man Should Never See! - I Saw A Maiden On A Stream, And Fair Was She! I Staid Awhile, To See Her Throw Her Tresses Black, That All Beset The Fair Horizon Of Her Brow With Clouds Of Jet. I Staid A Little While To View Her Cheek, That Wore In Place Of Red The Bloom Of Water, Tender Blue, Daintily Spread. I Staid To Watch, A Little Space, Her Parted Lips If She Would Sing; The Waters Closed Above Her Face With Many A Ring. And Still I Staid A Little More, Alas! She Never Comes Again! I Throw My Flowers From The Shore, And Watch In Vain. I Know My Life Will Fade Away, I Know That I Must Vainly Pine, For I Am Made Of Mortal Clay, But SHe's Divine!