Where mourning shadows throng the dreary side
Of the black river’s foul and sluggish tide,
I see the shining of the Silver Peace,
I hear its music bid their moaning cease.
Thy fair is foul to me, thy foul is fair;
Thy songs are cries, thy joys are pain-fraught care;
Thy griefs are gladness, and thy woes are gain,
Thy deaths are jewels in an age-long chain.
Thy sins but shadows on the waters wide,
Thy virtues gleams upon the silent tide.