Poems (Chitwood)/The Meadow Rill
THE MEADOW RILL.
Oh, the waves so bright, the waves so bright, Of the dancing, shining brook,As they tinkle and tinkle in very glee, And ripple through every nook—Over the stones all smooth and brown, Where the sunbeams flash across—Down where the "nun-like lilies" stand, 'Mid the dewy cups of moss. Oh, the sparkling rill, the sparkling rill, Its low, soft murmurs, its fairy tones, My heart with gladness fill.
The merry rill, the meadow rill, How pure in the light of day; How its waves reflect the sunny leaves, And glide all bright away.And the gentle wind, with its lips so sweet, How it plays with the grassy edge,And wafts bright blossoms upon its brow, From the fragrant hawthorne hedge. O meadow rill, O gentle rill, Tho' friends may frown, in thy bright face There lingers sunlight still.
And, oh, at night, when the stars shine out, It mirrors their angel eyes,And glances up like a wondering child, To the far-off azure skies;And the pale, pale moon, as she moves along, Like a mourner, sad and slow;Oh, she little thinks what a wealth of crowns She gives to the waves below. Oh, the musical rill, as it glides along, It fills my heart with a rapture thrill, And my lips with a gush of song.