Lead me to the river, A stretch of whispering reeds, Where water embraces the earth, And every ripple concedes, To the sleepy swan’s repose. How quiet, how kind, The way silver mirrors bleed, When you lose the melody of time.

I’d share the cool with the herons, That labor on stiff-winged strokes; And wherever the soft sand settles, Among those reeds, oh bride of yoke, Let us build a castle of dreams, With your laughter like the streams.

• Robert Graves