LITMIR.BIZ

      A river went singing a-down to the sea,

      A-singing – low – singing —

      And the dim rippling river said softly to me,

      "I'm bringing, a-bringing —

      While floating along —

      A beautiful song

      To the shores that are white where the waves are so weary,

      To the beach that is burdened with wrecks that are dreary.

      "A song sweet and calm

      As the peacefullest psalm;

      And the shore that was sad

      Will be grateful and glad,

      And the weariest wave from its dreariest dream

      Will wake to the sound of the song of the stream;

      And the tempests shall cease

      And there shall be peace."

      From the fairest of fountains

      And farthest of mountains,

      From the stillness of snow

      Came the stream in its flow.

      Down the slopes where the rocks are gray,

      Through the vales where the flowers are fair —

      Where the sunlight flashed – where the shadows lay

      Like stories that cloud a face of care,

      The river ran on – and on – and on,

      Day and night, and night and day.

      Going and going, and never gone,

      Longing to flow to the "far away."

      Staying and staying, and never still, —

      Going and staying, as if one will

      Said, "Beautiful river, go to the sea,"

      And another will whispered, "Stay with me" —

      And the river made answer, soft and low,

      "I go and stay – I stay and go."

      "But what is the song?" I said at last

      To the passing river that never passed;

      And a white, white wave whispered, "List to me,

      I'm a note in the song for the beautiful sea,

      A song whose grand accents no earth din may sever,

      And the river flows on in the same mystic key

      That blends in one chord the 'forever and never.'"

      Out of the hills of Habersham,

      Down the valleys of Hall,

      I hurry amain to reach the plain,

      Run the rapid and leap the fall,

      Split at the rock and together again,

      Accept my bed or narrow or wide,

      And flee from folly on every side

      With a lover's pain to attain the plain

      Far from the hills of Habersham,

      Far from the valleys of Hall.

      All down the hills of Habersham,

      All through the valleys of Hall,

      The rushes cried, "Abide, abide,"

      The willful waterweeds held me thrall,

      The loving laurel turned my tide,

      The ferns and the fondling grass said, "Stay,"

      The dewberry dipped for to work delay,

      And the little reeds sighed, "Abide, abide,"

      Here in the hills of Habersham,

      Here in the valleys of Hall.

      High o'er the hills of Habersham,

      Veiling the valleys of Hall,

      The hickory told me manifold

      Fair tales of shade; the poplar tall

      Wrought me her shadowy self to hold;

      The chestnut, the oak, the walnut, the pine,

      Overleaning, with flickering meaning and sign,

      Said, "Pass not so cold, these manifold

      Deep shades of the hills of Habersham,

      These glades in the valleys of Hall."

      And oft in the hills of Habersham,

      And oft in the valleys of Hall,

      The white quartz shone, and the smooth brook stone

      Did bar me of passage with friendly brawl;

      And many a luminous jewel lone

      (Crystals clear or a-cloud with mist,

      Ruby, garnet, or amethyst)

      Made

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