THE RIVER.
Your life and mine, O constant heart, have glided Like two streams into one;We flow along,—and now our way is guided In shade, and now in sun.
For miles I wandered through the placid meadow Wide stretching to the sky;In me the wild-flower watched his painted shadow,— In me the cloud on high.
But you on the great hillside freshly bubbled, By secret sluices sentFrom some deep source in the rock's heart untroubled, Where sunbeam never bent.
