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Earth's Voices

Transcripts from Nature, Sospitra, and Other Poems. By William Sharp
  
  
  
  

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THE RHINE.
  
  
  
  
  
  
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THE RHINE.

Thro' pasture-lands and vine-clad heights
I curve and sweep—
With memories of a thousand fights
Lying hidden deep,
With echoes of uncounted wars
Long laid asleep—
Past ruins of ancient castles grim
Upon each steep.

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A thousand meadows I make green
With all delight
Of flowers, till cornfields clothe the scene
Where once the might
And dread and tumult of fierce war
Filled day and night
With blood and death—tho' now I flow
With waters bright.
I am bless'd and bless: I crave no more
Than that my waves may onward pour
Forever thus, and be to all
The best inheritance of yore.