BY W. J. LISLE
River, restless river, Naught was said but friendship,
Going downward to the sea, Why is this that all of her
Art thou telling me a secret Thwarts my fancy like an houri
Of what my life shall be? To a Moslem worshiper.
In the wondrous future River, on my vision
Will I struggle and grow strong, In the sunlight like a thread
Fighting foremost in the battle Why recall these olden memories–
‘Gainst prejudice and wrong? All the changed past is dead.
River, siren river, Onward to the future–
I may do what hath been done, Fancy smiles on either hand
Strong of heart and firm of purpose– Like a face with sun-set flushed
And the fields of fame are won. Looking to a golden land.
River, childhood’s river, Flow on shining river,
Though my sword write not my name In my soul thy song shall be
With the blood of civil warfare Like Dreamland’s glorious
On the muster rolls of fame. harmonies–
A long farewell to thee.
Greater are life’s conflicts,
I must gird me for the strife,
For I hear the long-roll beating LOUISVILLE, Ky., March, 1873
On the tented fields of life. (From the Louisville Commercial)
Fashioned by the giver, Copied from
I must work his wonderous plan, The Lebanon (KY) Weekly Standard,
Add my current to the being March 19, 1873, p. 2.
Of the destiny of man.
River, happy river,
Oh forgive this idle tear,
Other eyes shall kiss thy waters,
Other feet shall wander here.
In the glorious spring time
When the violets appear,
Will she, cherishing the memory
Of my being, wander here.