 | Poems Lyrical and Dramatic |  |
67
TO THE RIVER.
Bear me onward and onward, foam-flecked like a steed,
Thou swift-flowing stream, under moon, under star;
As one horsed upon storm-clouds I throb with thy speed,
Like an arrow shot swiftly through bridge, over bar,
Between banks of green tillage, through hamlet and village,
Afar.
Thou swift-flowing stream, under moon, under star;
As one horsed upon storm-clouds I throb with thy speed,
Like an arrow shot swiftly through bridge, over bar,
Between banks of green tillage, through hamlet and village,
Afar.
Bear me onward and onward; I laugh and I burn,
I leap with thine eddies and wrestle and fly,
And my strokes into froth the waves winnow and churn,
Like the storm-drift the plumes of an eagle may ply,
And the willow bough brushes my head, and the rushes
Go by.
I leap with thine eddies and wrestle and fly,
And my strokes into froth the waves winnow and churn,
68
And the willow bough brushes my head, and the rushes
Go by.
Bear me onward and onward; I hear the winds roar
In the pine-forest round me, and, answering loud,
The brawl of the surges that lash on the shore,
The rattle of thunders far up in the cloud.
Weave, weave, Triton's daughters, with surf of white waters
My shroud.
In the pine-forest round me, and, answering loud,
The brawl of the surges that lash on the shore,
The rattle of thunders far up in the cloud.
Weave, weave, Triton's daughters, with surf of white waters
My shroud.
Bear me onward and onward in desperate chase,
For I see close before me the Spirit of Death;
With but three waves between us he leads in the race,
And “Oh, hasten and hasten to win me,” he saith—
My lip scarce emerges, I catch through the surges
My breath.
For I see close before me the Spirit of Death;
With but three waves between us he leads in the race,
And “Oh, hasten and hasten to win me,” he saith—
My lip scarce emerges, I catch through the surges
My breath.
| Poems Lyrical and Dramatic | |