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THE SINGING RIVER |
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 | ||