The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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| IV. |
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| X. |
| XI. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
53
XXII. THE VOICE OF THE RIVER
The river was ever a siren:
It sings to the reed-fringed shore;
It sings to the floating lilies,
And they love it more and more.
When the autumn leaves are golden
It gathers them all to its wave:
It takes, but it never tells them
That its waters are deep as the grave.
It sings to the reed-fringed shore;
It sings to the floating lilies,
And they love it more and more.
When the autumn leaves are golden
It gathers them all to its wave:
It takes, but it never tells them
That its waters are deep as the grave.
And it sings with a siren sweetness
As it eddies to and fro
To fairer things than blossoms,
With its tempting cold dark flow.
And some there are who listen,
And they plunge in the cold deep wave:
One moment the gold locks glisten—
But the moonlight cannot save!
As it eddies to and fro
To fairer things than blossoms,
With its tempting cold dark flow.
And some there are who listen,
And they plunge in the cold deep wave:
One moment the gold locks glisten—
But the moonlight cannot save!
54
But oh, there are voices sweeter
Than the river's siren tone!
Not even the saddest outcast
In the moonlight stands alone.
For the face of Christ in the moonlight
Shines out over the wave,
And he saith to the saddest of mortals,
“It was you that I came to save.”
Than the river's siren tone!
Not even the saddest outcast
In the moonlight stands alone.
For the face of Christ in the moonlight
Shines out over the wave,
And he saith to the saddest of mortals,
“It was you that I came to save.”
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |