Quote#Friendship
But thou, lorn stream, whose sullen tide
Quote byWilliam Collins · 1721–1759
Commonly attributed — not confirmed in an authoritative edition. Cited on Wikiquote to: Ode Occasioned by the Death of Mr. Thomson, (1748), line 29..
English (original)
But thou, lorn stream, whose sullen tide No sedge-crown'd sister now attend, Now waft me from the green hill's side Whose cold turf hides the buried friend!
— William Collins
More from William Collins
By fairy hands their knell is rung; By forms unseen their dirge is sung; There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay; And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there!
Too nicely Jonson knew the critic's part; Nature in him was almost lost in Art.
Well may your hearts believe the truths I tell: 'T is virtue makes the bliss, where'er we dwell.
How sleep the brave who sink to rest By all their country's wishes blest!
In numbers warmly pure and sweetly strong.
To fair Fidele's grassy tomb Soft maids and village hinds shall bring Each opening sweet of earliest bloom, And rifle all the breathing spring.