Original Voices from the Past

The River Maiden

With the slender rushing rills,
Down she dances from the hills,
  To the stately flowing river,
  And the sky-encircled sea.
    I have seen her as she passed,
    Where the dimpling stream runs fast,—
      All its swift and gliding motion
      In her eager hastening feet,
      All the music of its ripples
      In her laughter low and sweet.
        By the little leaves a-quiver
        On the margin of the river
          I can trace her footsteps fleet.

Like the shimmer on its wavelets
Is the sunshine in her hair;
  And her eyes are like the pool,
  Shadow-sheltered, calm and cool,
  With the sunlight glinting through,
  And the sky’s celestial blue
      Mirrored true.

As the stream through fretted windings
Holds its purpose toward the sea,
  Steadfast as the current flows,
  Ever on she tripping goes,
      Blithe and free.
    And I follow, follow ever,
    By the rapid running river,
      Follow her to meet the sea.
        As the stream that pauses never,
        So my maiden of the river
          Flees me ever, ever, ever.