The bird still chanted with all his art—
But the stream ran on, with his song in her heart.
Through broadening meadow and corn-land bright,
Past smoke-palled city and flowery lea,
A river rolled on, in the fading light,
Majestic, serene, as she neared the sea.
The sins and uncleanness of many she bore
To the outstretched arms of the waiting shore,
Till moonlight followed the sunset glow
And her crimson waves were as white as snow.