"You lean over an' dip yo' han' in her an' you take it up an' you say it's wet. You dig yo' oars into her, an' she'll spin yo' boat over her breast. You dive down into her, an' you come up—or don't come up. Some eats her. Some drinks her. Some gethers wealth outen her. Some draps it into her. Some drownds in her.
"An' she gives an' takes, an' seem like all her chillen gits satisfaction outen her, one way an' another; but yit an' still, she ain't nuver flustered. On an' on she goes—rain or shine—high water—low water—all de same—on an' on.
"When she craves diamonds for her neck, she reaches up wid long onvisible hands an' gethers de stars out'n de firmamint.
"De moon is her common breastpin, an' de sun—
"Even he don't faze her. She takes what she wants, an' sends back his fire every day.
"De mists is a veil for her face, an' de showers fringes it.
"Sunrise or dusklight, black night or midday, every change she answers whilst she's passin'.
"But who ever inticed her to stop or to look or listen? Nobody, Baby. An' why?
"Oh, Lord! ef eve'ybody only knowed!
"You see, all sech as dat, I used to study over it an' ponder befo' we started to talk back an' fo'th—de River an' me.