Sonnets To A Friend: I Poem by Alexander Anderson

We part: great London with its mighty rush
Of life will daily send its shocks through thine,
As tides go up a river, but on mine
The quiet hamlet with its quiet hush
Will fall like murmurs in the night. But still,
When the low ebbs are with us, shall we not
Dream the fair dreams of many a pleasant spot,
By which we wander'd with a happy will!
I know that all between the roaring trains,
When their wild thunder sinks, that I shall hear
The murmur of the Rhine within my ear—
All soft and tremulously sweet, like strains
Sung by some fair witch-maiden, ere the moon
Touches a mountain that will hide her soon.