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.
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Flow on, lovely Dee, flow on, thou sweet river,
Thy banks' purest stream shall be dear to me ever.
Flow on, lovely Dee, flow on, thou sweet river,
Thy banks' purest stream shall be dear to me ever.
And see the rivers how they run
Through woods and meads, in shade and sun,
Sometimes swift, read more
And see the rivers how they run
Through woods and meads, in shade and sun,
Sometimes swift, sometimes slow,--
Wave succeeding wave, they go
A various journey to the deep,
Like human life to endless sleep!
Two ways the rivers
Leap down to different seas, and as they roll
Grow deep and still, read more
Two ways the rivers
Leap down to different seas, and as they roll
Grow deep and still, and their majestic presence
Becomes a benefaction to the towns
They visit, wandering silently among them,
Like patriarchs old among their shining tents.
Ayr, gurgling, kissed his pebbled shore,
O'erhung with wild woods, thickening green;
The fragrant birch and hawthorn read more
Ayr, gurgling, kissed his pebbled shore,
O'erhung with wild woods, thickening green;
The fragrant birch and hawthorn hoar
Twined amorous round the raptures scene.
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.
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.]
Where stray ye, Muses! in what lawn or grove,
. . . .
In those fair fields read more
Where stray ye, Muses! in what lawn or grove,
. . . .
In those fair fields where sacred Isis glides,
Or else where Cam his winding vales divides?
I love any discourse of rivers, and fish and fishing.
I love any discourse of rivers, and fish and fishing.
