 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 | The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder |  |
THE SINGING RIVER
I
I read the poet's verses by the streamWhere late with him I walked; the twilight gleam
Faded, the page darkened, and from the sky
The day, withdrawing gradual, came to die
Slowly, into a memory and a sigh.
II
There as I read, the poet's lyric dreamMixt with the silvery clamor of the stream,
And, tho' the night fell, and I read no more,
Still on and on the mingled measures pour:
“Beauty is one,” they murmur o'er and o'er.
| The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder | |