Генри Кендалл (Henry Kendall)

Poems and Songs (1862). 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 so 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 so 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 so still!
         But you beat and you beat
         All night at the feet
       Of that cold and flinty hill—
       Of that hard and senseless hill!"

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