Augusta Webster

* * *

MILES and miles of here and there
    Our eager river forced its way,
Bent to be it knew not where.

It had no rest in delay;
    And for its haste it had no aim;
Wherefore go? But wherefore stay?

Here and there led both the same;
    By any winding it could make
Near its secret goal it came.

When it reached the crystal lake
    It knew its aim and found its rest;
All the miles were for love's sake.

Mid the blue hills of the west
Our river lies in the lake's breast.