Feet that are weary from far journeys, rest a spell In cool, green valleys where sweet waters flow. Stay here your steps, until you know Meaning of waters whispering to stones; Reason for willow bending down In reverence, her silvery crown To catch the echo of slow river-tones. Music was born from out a river's soft, low voice, And trees stood taut to sing it to the wind, And that far runner, left behind Parts he remembered. If you wish to know Words for the music you must rest, Ear to the master river's breast -- Hear stories of far lands where rivers go. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HUSKERS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER MOONRISE AT SEA by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE SONG OF AMORGEN by AMORGEN; AMERGIN GLUINGEI; A TRINITY OF MOTHERHOOD by FRED CLARE BALDWIN POLYHYMNIA: L'ENVOY by WILLIAM BASSE THE FASHIONS, 1806 by LEWIS BEACH THE WAGGONER by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 60. THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |