THE SONG OF THE FLUME[16]
By Anna M. Fitch
Awake, awake! for my track is red,
With the glow of the coming day;
And with tinkling tread, from my dusky bed,
I haste o’er hill away,
Up from the valley, up from the plain,
Up from the river’s side;
For I come with a gush, and a torrent’s rush,
And there’s wealth in my swelling tide.