Yes! where are the cities 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 JOHN AUGUSTUS SHEA. The Beautiful River. IKE 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. 17 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, 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 more 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, And a tone, like the dream of a song we once heard, 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. O 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, And " Arbutus now twining, my castles in Spain" gleaming down in thy breast; RHYMES OF THE RIVER. Then disastered and dim, Swinging sullen and grim, Where the old ragged shadows of hovels are shed; As in dream, or in doubt, In the reeds and the rushes slow rocking the dead. When all crimson and gold, Do the fleecy clouds flock to the gateway of even, But a way paved with morn, Ay, a bright golden street to the city of Heaven! In the great stony heart Of the feverish mart, Is the throb of thy pulses pellucid, to-day; By green velvet edges, Where the corn waves its sabre, thou glidest away. Broad and brave, deep and strong, Thou art lapsing along; And the stars rise and fall in thy turbulent tide, White swan's breast is lifted, Or a June fleet of lilies at anchor may ride. And yet, gallant river, On-flashing forever, That hast cleft the broad world on thy way to the main, With a smile and a tear, And a Hebrew, read back to thy fountains again. 19 |