The River

 

Our lives flow like a lonely river winding
Through far foreign fields from a source we never know
Seeking some far strand we'll be all our lives in finding -
Come hand in hand, together let us go.

Far behind rise the shining hills of childhood
Whence the river sprang in the gentle dewy dawn,
Flowing swiftly down through the shadows of the wild wood
In mist and confusion, growing troubled and forlorn.

Now bright noon dazzles all the far horizon,
Forest and field, in a swimming silver glare
And the verdant banks in profusion are emblazoned
With rainbows of flowers, and all the world is fair,

Til dusk draws her mantle of darkness round the country
And day's colours drain to the shadows of the sky
And the moon's lamp lightens our way down to the wide sea
Where every river ends - no man ever may know why . . .

And still our lives flow like that lonely river winding
Through far foreign fields from a source we never know
Seeking some far strand we'll be all our lives in finding -
Come hand in hand, together let us go.