Sonnet to the River Otter

Dear native Brook! wild Streamlet of the West!How many various-fated years have past,What happy, and what mournful hours, since lastI skimm'd the smooth thin stone along thy breast,Numbering its light leaps! yet so deep impresstSink the sweet scenes of childhood, that mine eyesI never shut amid the sunny ray,But strait with all their tints thy) waters rise,Thy crossing plank, thy marge with willows grey,And bedded sand that vein'd with various diesGleam'd through thy bright transparence! On my way,Visions of childhood! oft have ye beguiledLone manhood's cares, yet waking fondest sighs.Ah! that once more I were a careless child!)