Florence Vida Bowers

(Washington, USA)

The River

Down the gorge the river rushes
Like a foam-flecked steed
Urged on by an unseen rider
Ever faster and n'er giving heed
To the precipice yawning before it
But plunging on with a roar
Leaps wildly over the cliff
And down to the valley floor
Rising amidst a spray of foam

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