The River

There flows a stream of a beautiful brightness, It winds through the vale, and it ever is fair; Perfumes of the flowers it breathes with their lightness, And echoes their sweets in the soft summer air.

Oh! true to the paths of the quietest glances, It glides through the woods, and it dances with glee; Like a child in the flow of its beautiful fancies, So joyful and pure in sweet liberty;.

Remember thy friends and thy playmates of yore, When life was a joyous and happy aurora— For now, as I gaze when I wander once more On the path of the Memory, the River’s the door.

The stream it winds on till it finds the sea, And the waves kiss the shore with a pleasant delight; As all the rich foliage of nature’s decree, Is a harmony rich, with the bright moonlit night.

• Robert Southey