THE RIVER
BY cliffs grown gray, as men grow gray
With weariness and sorrow,
Awhile I pause, and then away,
And in the wild and restless Bay
I lose myself to-morrow.
I turn the wheels of many mills,
By many islands dally;
I gossip with the daffodils,
And to my bosom take the rills
That from the woodlands sally.
I love the songs that childhood sings—
Its smiles and roguish glances,—
A picture paint of many things
That o'er the mind a halo flings
As onward time advances.
I listen to the tender chime
Of city bells a-swaying:
O dower of youth! O wealth of time!
O pleasant dreams! O hopes sublime,
When all the world's a-swaying!
By cliffs grown gray, as men grow gray
With weariness and sorrow,
Awhile I pause, and then away,
Like you who loiter here to-day,
And lose myself to-morrow.