Yet I will look upon thy face again,
My own romantic Bronx, and it will be
A read more

Yet I will look upon thy face again,
My own romantic Bronx, and it will be
A face more pleasant than the face of men.
Thy waves are old companions, I shall see
A well remembered form in each old tree
And hear a voice long loved in thy wild minstrelsy.

How bright the sunshine dances in its joy,
O'er the still flow of this majestic river!

How bright the sunshine dances in its joy,
O'er the still flow of this majestic river!

Farewell, my friends! farewell, my foes!
My peace with these, my love with those.
The bursting tears read more

Farewell, my friends! farewell, my foes!
My peace with these, my love with those.
The bursting tears my heart declare;
Farewell, the bonnie banks of Ayr.

He who does not know his way to the sea should take a river for
his guide.
[Fr., read more

He who does not know his way to the sea should take a river for
his guide.
[Fr., Les rivieres sont des chemins qui marchant et qui portent
ou l'on veut aller.]

How sweet to move at summer's eve
By Clyde's meandering stream,
When Sol in joy is seen read more

How sweet to move at summer's eve
By Clyde's meandering stream,
When Sol in joy is seen to leave
The earth with crimson beam;
When islands that wandered far
Above his sea couch lie,
And here and there some gem-like star
Re-opes its sparkling eye.

On the Big Blackfoot River above the mouth of Belmont Creek the
banks are fringed by large Ponderosa pines. read more

On the Big Blackfoot River above the mouth of Belmont Creek the
banks are fringed by large Ponderosa pines. In the slanting sun
of late afternoon the shadows of great branches reached across
the river, and the trees took the river in their arms.

From Stirling Castle we had seen
The mazy Forth unravelled;
Had trod the banks of Clyde and read more

From Stirling Castle we had seen
The mazy Forth unravelled;
Had trod the banks of Clyde and Tay,
And with the Tweed had travelled;
And when we came to Clovenford,
Then said "my winsome marrow,"
"Whate'er betide, we'll turn aside,
And see the braes of Yarrow."

Rivers are roads that move and carry us whither we wish to go.
[Fr., Les rivieres sont des chemins read more

Rivers are roads that move and carry us whither we wish to go.
[Fr., Les rivieres sont des chemins qui marchant et qui portent
ou l'on veut aller.]

Then I saw the Congo, creeping through the black,
Cutting through the jungle with a golden track.

Then I saw the Congo, creeping through the black,
Cutting through the jungle with a golden track.