This text comes from The Poetical Works of Thomas Hood, a historical songbook transcribed on Wikisource and reproduced from the pinned revision linked below.
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 back, 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!