Classic Poem

On this green, grassy valley-slope
The river stream divides;
It is the first departing point
Where the pellucid tides,
So long commingled in one stream,
Flow in two channels swift and deep,
Each destined, in its shade or gleam,
In different route to sweep.

And distant far shall be each course
Until they reach the sea;
One passing thro' green valleys,
In shades of forest tree;
'Mid garden blooms and orchards,
Cornfield, and sylvan home, —
A placid stream, where finny tribes
Sparkle, and leap, and roam.

The other stream seeks barren lands,
And sterile pastures grim,
Pours in white torrents over rocks,
Plunges in caverns dim;
No life along its border stirs,
No angler's step is there, —
For spotted trout and leaping pike
Are absent everywhere.

So, friend beloved, we separate,
No more on earth to meet,
One guided by a happy fate,
Where life is calm and sweet;
The other in rough tempests hurl'd,
'Mid madding tumults of the world.