Classic Poem

Amid the rural scenes where I was born,
Often, as fancy led my boyish feet,
I used to stray beside a mountain stream,
Which, after winding 'round among the hills,
And chafing against rocks, and tumbling down
In cataracts till it was vexed to foam,
Passed at a restful pace through quiet woods,
Whose shadows cooled its tide from shore to shore,
Until its former labor seemed forgot,
And all its deep, dark channel charmed to peace.
At last, the river left its leafy friends,
Ran brightly underneath a little bridge,
And widened far away among the fields,
Finding a thousand ways of doing good;
So journeyed on in silence to the sea.

Long years have passed since last I strolled beside
This murmuring daughter of the mountain springs,
And yet the stream is still as clear and bright
Within the precious bowers of my mind
As though I stood beside its banks to-day, —
And so the river runs on in my soul.
What does this vision teach, but that the true
And only beauty, seen by earnest souls,
Shall never die; and that all forms of good,
Which I have ever loved, shall ne'er be lost.
Methinks I stand again beside that stream;
I hear the weird song of the waterfall,
And watch the eddies curling on their way;
Or, underneath the little arched bridge,
I pause to see the fishes dart about;
Or, haply, farther on, where all is calm,
I watch the watery mirror of the sky,
Framed by the trees, that line the bank, and leave
A widening vista of a new, bright world.
Aye, I have gazed so long within the depths
That they have lured me almost to believe
That I might find there, underneath the wave,
The true, untroubled life for which I long,
Where doubt, and sin, and partings could not come.
So I have thought till I have wished to leap
Down into this deep heaven, since I might
Not fly up to the lofty one above.
But calmer thought prevailed: and even now
I think I hear the hasting waters preach
A nobler lesson, for they tell of Conscience.

Thus saith the stream: " Brother, who loiterest here
To listen to my voice and watch my way,
Oh, look, and listen well! So shalt thou learn
A lesson better than the ones in books.
No man hath told me how to choose my path,
Nor can I see my way that lies before;
And yet the hills divide, the rocks give way,
And trees and flowers, like loving sisters, stand
On either bank, and cheer my passing by.

Yet am I not alone. There is a Power
That gently leads me on through day and night.
I see it not, and yet I feel its touch,
And love its leading. Oh, how quick I leap
To do its bidding! Turning here and there,
Now hasting and now gliding noiselessly,
I journey on past hill, and field, and town,
And lead my perfect life. All those who view
My passage love me. Birds stoop down and kiss
My lips and then rise up and sing. The sun
And stars shower benedictions. Children oft
Play near, and tune their laughter by my waves;
And men will let me journey through their land,
Nor call me trespasser, because they know
I drain their fields, and turn their many mills.
My life is ever happy, and all day
I follow on with faith and hope, and so
God leads me from the mountain to the sea.

Would'st thou be likewise happy? Then know this:
Thou hast a guide like that which guidest me,
Given thee in thy very earliest days,
To tell thee what is right and what is wrong,
And choose the central best, twixt good and better.
Thy Conscience is this guide, God's whisper-voice.
Oh, be as tender to its spirit touch
As weather vanes are to the summer winds,
Or flowers to dews of Heaven. Thus, by listening,
Thou shalt plainer hear; and, by obedience,
Obeying shall grow easier; and thy life
Shall be a blessing to all sons of men.
So thy brief passage through this world shall be,
Not like the flight of some fear-blinded bird,
That strikes 'gainst trees and houses in its flight,
And shortly dies; but like my peaceful waves,
So shall thy days pass onward fearlessly,
Thy past a present pleasure, present days
All crowned with joy, and future days with hope.
Then when thou enterest the gloom of death,
Even as I approach this builded bridge,
Thou shalt discern how short the shadow is
That spans thy path, and thou shalt see beyond,
A vista brighter than the gates of morn,
Where thou may'st find thy destiny, and lead
A wider life through widening fields of change.