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POEMS.
Oh darkling River! Through the night I hearThy wavelets rippling on the pebbly beach;I hear thy current stir the rustling sedge,That skirts thy bed; thou intermittest notThine everlasting journey, drawing onA silvery train from many a woodland spring,And mountain brook. The dweller by thy side,Who moored his little boat upon thy beach,Though all the waters that upbore it thenHave slid away o'or night, shall find, at morn,Thy channel filled with waters freshly drawnFrom distant cliffs and hollows where the rillComes up amid the water-flags. All nightThou givest moisture to the thirsty rootsOf the lithe willow and o'erhanging plane,And cherishest the herbage of thy bank,Spotted with little flowers, and sendest upPerpetually, the vapors from thy face,To steep the hills with dew, or darken heavenWith drifting clouds, that trail the shadowy shower.
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