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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - Song
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Where, from the eye of day,
   The dark and silent river
Pursues through tangled woods a way
   O`er which the tall trees quiver;

The silver mist, that breaks
   From out that woodland cover,
Betrays the hidden path it takes,
   And hangs the current over!

So oft the thoughts that burst
   From hidden springs of feeling,
Like silent streams, unseen at first,
   From our cold hearts are stealing:

But soon the clouds that veil
   The eye of Love, when glowing,
Betray the long unwhispered tale
   Of thoughts in darkness flowing!
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