YOUR murmurs bring the pleasant breath Of many a sylvan scene; They tell of sweet and sunny vales, And woodlands wildly green; Ye cheer the lonely heart of age, -- Ye fill the exile's dreams With hope and home and memory, -- Ye unforgotten streams. Too soon the blessed springs of love To bitter fountains turn, And deserts drink the stream that flows From hope's exhaustless urn; And faint, upon the waves of life, May fall the summer beams; But they linger long and bright with you, Ye sweet unchanging streams. The bards -- the ancient bards -- who sang When thought and song were new, -- O mighty waters! did they learn Their minstrelsy from you? For still, methinks, your voices blend With all their glorious themes, That flow for ever fresh and free As the eternal streams. Well might the sainted seer of old, Who trod the tearless shore, Like many waters deem the voice The angel hosts adore! For still, where deep the rivers roll, Or far the torrent gleams, Our spirits hear the voice of God Amid the rush of streams! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A WISH by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI QUATRAIN: THE PARCAE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH PSALM 53 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE ECHOES OF SPRING: 4 by MATHILDE BLIND BUCH DER LIEDER by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES A CHILD ASLEEP by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |