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Frederick
George Scott
COLLECTED
POEMS
The
River
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Why hurry, little river,
Why hurry to the sea?
There is nothing there to
do
But to sink into the blue
And all forgotten be.
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5 |
There
is nothing on that shore
But the tides for evermore,
And the faint and far-off line
Where the winds across the brine
For ever, ever roam
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10 |
And
never find a home.
Why hurry, little river,
From the mountains and
the mead,
Where the graceful elms are sleeping
And the quiet cattle feed?
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15 |
The
loving shadows cool
The deep and restful pool;
And every tribute stream
Brings its own sweet woodland dream
Of the mighty woods that sleep
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20 |
Where
the sighs of earth are deep,
And the silent skies look down
On the savage mountain’s frown.
Oh, linger, little river,
Your banks are all so fair,
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25 |
Each
morning is a hymn of praise,
Each evening is a prayer.
All day the sunbeams glitter
On your shallows and your
bars,
And at night the dear God stills you
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30 |
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With the music of the stars.
[Page 11] |
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