River! River! rapid River! Swifter now you slip away; Swift and silent as an arrow, River! River! headlong River ! ANONYMOUS. A thousand suns will stream on thee, ALFRED TENNYSON. Yes! where are the cities Of Thebes and of Tyre?— Like sparks from the fire The splendor of Rome, But thou art almighty- Twin-brother of Time! As the stars first beheld thee, But hold! when thy surges Is drawn back like a scroll; JOHN AUGUSTU 3 SHEA. The Beautiful River. LIKE a foundling in slumber, the summer-day lay And I thought that the glow through the azure-arched way THE BEAUTIFUL RIVER. There together we sat by the beautiful stream; We had nothing to do but to love and to dream, In the days that have gone on before. 21 These are not the same days, though they bear the same name, With the ones I shall welcome no more. But it may be that angels are calling them o'er, For a Sabbath and summer forever, When the years shall forget the Decembers they wore, In a twilight like that, Jennie June for a bride, Oh! what more of the world could one wish for beside, Till we heard, or we fancied its musical tide, When it flowed through the gateway of gold! "Jennie June," then I said, “let us linger no morc Let the boat be unmoored, and be muffled the oar, If the angel on duty our coming descries, You have nothing to do but throw off the disguise Oh! how sweetly she spoke, ere she uttered a word, For it glides on in shadow beyond the world's west, I am lingering yet, but I linger alone, On the banks of the beautiful river; 'Tis the twin of that day, but the wave where it shone Bears the willow-tree's shadow forever. BENJAMIN F. TAYLOR. Rhymes of the River. River far-flowing, How broad thou art growing! And the sentinel headlands wait grimly for thee; And Euroclydon urges The bold-riding surges That in white-crested lines gallop in from the sea ! O bright-hearted river, Like a sword from its scabbard, far-flashing abroad ! On the tremulous blaze, That thou surely wert drawn by an angel of God! Through the black heart of night, Thou art reeking with sunset, and dyed with the dawn; Cleft the mountains of God And the shadows of roses yet rusted thereon! Where willows are weeping, Where shadows are sleeping, Where the frown of the mountain lies dark on thy crest; Arcturus now shining, Arbutus now twining, And my castles in Spain" gleaming down in thy breast; |