Swift and silent and strong
Under the low-browed arches,
Through culverts, and under bridges,
Sweeping with long forced marches
Down to the ultimate ridges,—
The sand, and the reeds, and the midges,
And the down-dropping tassels of larches,
That border the ocean of song.

Swift and silent and deep
Through the noisome and smoke-grimed city,
Turning the wheels and the spindles,
And the great looms that have no pity,—
Weight, and pulley, and windlass,
And steel that flashes and kindles,
And hears no forest-learnt ditty,
Not even in dreams and sleep.

Blithe and merry and sweet
Over its shallows singing,—
I hear before I awaken
The Bound of the church-bells ringing,
And the sound of the leaves wind-shaken,
Complaining and sun-forsaken,
And the oriole warbling and singing,
And the swish of the wind in the wheat

Sweet and tender and true!
From meadows of blossoming clover,
Where sleepy-eyed cows are lowing,
And bobolinks twittering over,—
Ebbing and falling and flowing—
Singing and gliding and going—
The river—my silver-shod lover,
Down to the infinite blue.

Deep, and tender, and strong!
With resonant voice and hole—
To far away sunshiny places,
Haunts of the bee and the swallow,
Where the Sabbath is sweet with the praises
Of dumb things, of weeds and of daisies,—
Oh river! I hear thee—I follow
To the ocean where I too belong.

THE RETURN

I have been where the roses blow,
Where the orange ripens its gold,
And the mountains stand with their peaks of snow,
To fence away the cold,
Where the lime and the myrtle lent
Their fragrance to the air,
To make the land of my banishment
More exquisitely fair.

And I heard the ring dove call
To his mate in the blossoming trees,
And I saw the white waves heave and fall.
Far away over southern seas.
I listened along the beach,
By the shore of the shifting sea,
To the waves, till I knew their murmured speech,
And the message they bore to me.

And I watched the great sails furled.
Like the wings of some ocean bird,
That brought me, out of another world,
A warning, and a word;
For still beside my way,
By shore or sunlit wave,
There journeyed with me night and day,
The shadow of a grave.

Oh, friends! my heart went forth
To you with a yearning cry,
To be taken back to my native North—
To be taken home to die.
For sweeter than southern suns,
Or the blossoms of summer lands,
Are the faces of my little ones,
And the touch of their tender hands.

Come closer to my side,
Your eyes are as clear and true
As if they were stars my way to guide,
My darlings, back to you.
Oh God! my heart is stirred
With thankfulness and rest,
To reach at last, like a wounded bird,
The shelter of its nest

Oh, faint pulse, throbbing long!
And weary and fluttering breath,
Twas the mother-love that kept you strong,
Though face to face with death.
But now my eyes are dim,
And my breath comes weak and slow,
Sing to me softly the evening hymn,
And kiss me ere I go.

Come close for the angel waits—
The angel with gentle hand,
To open for me the shadowy gates,
Into the silent land.
Oh, voices sweet and clear
What light is in the skies?
Is it your glad voices that I hear—
Or the hymns of paradise?

Farewell your faces fade—
Fade—fade—and disappear
In the light no earthly cloud may shade,
Heaven's morning dawning clear.
Oh, land of rest so fair
By angel footsteps trod,
I shall wait for you, beloved there,
In the paradise of God.