University of Virginia Library

THE RIVER.

Amid the rushes, green, and slight,
Beneath the willows tall, and strong,
Wave after wave, so fast and bright,
The river runs along.
The winter comes with icy blast,
The summer brings her scorching suns,
Day after day has come, and passed,
And still the river runs.
I see it flow; away, away,
Along the same broad even track,
The waves sweep onward night and day,
But never one comes back.
And thus it is, time passes by,
Nor ever stops, for joy or pain,
Thus years, and days, and moments fly,
But never come again.
The shadows on the river fall,
The wave reflects them every one,
The bending rush, the poplar tall,
But carries with it none.
And every virtue, every crime,
Our thoughts, our deeds, our feelings, cast

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A shadow on the stream of time,
As it goes rushing past.
The wave reflecteth sky, and tree,
Yet takes no colour, blue, or green,
But things we've done, can never be,
As though they had not been.
'Twas good or bad, 'twas right or wrong,
And He Who notes our every deed,
Has caught it as it swept along,
And marked it for its meed.
Then, as we watch the river flow,
Think we how time doth ever glide;
And pray we that our lives may throw
Bright shadows on the tide.