Page:Thirty poems (IA thirtypoems00bryarich).pdf/49

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THE NIGHT JOURNEY OF A RIVER.

Oh River, gentle River! gliding onIn silence underneath this starless sky!Thine is a ministry that never restsEven while the living slumber. For a timeThe meddler, man, hath left the elementsIn peace; the ploughman breaks the clods no more;The miner labors not, with steel and fire,To rend the rock, and he that hews the stone,And he that fells the forest, he that guidesThe loaded wain, and the poor animalThat drags it, have forgotten, for a time,Their toils, and share the quiet of the earth. Thou pansest not in thine allotted task,
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