The River And The Hill

And they shook their sweetness out in their sleep On the brink of that beautiful stream, But it wandered along with a wearisome song Like a lover that walks in a dream: So the roses blew When the winds went through, In the moonlight so white and still; But the river it beat All night at the feet Of a cold and flinty hill - Of a hard and senseless hill! I said, "We have often showered our loves Upon something as dry as the dust; And the faith that is crost, and the hearts that are lost - Oh! how can we wittingly trust? Like the stream which flows, And wails as it goes. Through the moonlight so white and still, To beat and to beat All night at the feet Of a cold and flinty hill - Of a hard and senseless hill? "River, I stay where the sweet roses blow, And drink of their pleasant perfumes! Oh, why do you moan, in this wide world alone, When so much affection here blooms? The winds wax faint, And the moon like a saint Glides over the woodlands so white and still! But you beat and you beat All night at the feet Of that cold and flinty hill - Of that hard and senseless hill!"