On the River
The sun is low,The waters flow,My boat is dancing to and fro.The eve is still,Yet from the hillThe killdeer echoes loud and shrill.
The paddles plash,The wavelets dash,We see the summer lightning flash;While now and then,In marsh and fenToo muddy for the feet of men,
Where neither birdNor beast has stirred,The spotted bullfrog’s croak is heard.The wind is high,The grasses sigh,The sluggish stream goes sobbing by.
And far awayThe dying dayHas cast its last effulgent ray;While on the landThe shadows standProclaiming that the eve’s at hand.