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Bubble, bubble, flows the stream
Like an old tune through a dream.

— Maurice Thompson

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More quotes by Maurice Thompson

She throws a kiss, and bids me run
In whispers sweet as roses’ breath;
I know I can not win the race,
And at the end, I know, is death.

When Spring is old, and dewy winds
Blow from the south, with odors sweet,
I see my love, in shadowy groves,
Speed down dark aisles on shining feet.

All Maurice Thompson quotes →

Attribution

Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Maurice Thompson (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.