The River Poem by Rose Terry Cooke

The river flows and flows away,
A lonely stream through forests gray,
No rippled rapids o'er it play;
Forever and forever.
As silent as a winter's night,
With purple heavens all alight,
And planets shining strangely bright;
So quiet is the river.

No found nor fall the vision finds,
And in no devious course it winds,
But straight from where the sunset shines,
Forever and forever.
A mystery of shade and gleam,
O'er hidden rocks glides on the stream,
Like sleep above a fearful dream;
So quiet is the river.

In streams pure silver in the sun,
Slow, sullen lead, with storms begun,
And golden green when day is done,
Forever and forever.
A flow of pearl in moonlight cold,
With moonless midnight onward rolled,
Blacker than lethe streamed of old.
So quiet is the river.

Oh, water! by the waves serene,
As tranquil hours a life hath seen,
No more to be as they have been
Forever and forever.
For underneath its restless flow,
Too black for light's full noon to show,
Lie broken rocks no mortals know.
So quiet is the river.