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.

Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through
it. The river was cut by the world's read more

Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through
it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over
rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are
timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of
the words are theirs.
I am haunted by waters.

Out of the hills of Habersham,
Down the valleys of Hall,
I hurry amain to reach the read more

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.

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.

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?

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!

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."

The fountains of sacred rivers flow upwards (i.e., everything is
turned topsy turvy.)

The fountains of sacred rivers flow upwards (i.e., everything is
turned topsy turvy.)

At last the Muses rose, . . . And scattered, . . . as they flew,
Their blooming wreaths read more

At last the Muses rose, . . . And scattered, . . . as they flew,
Their blooming wreaths from fair Valclusa's bowers
To Arno's myrtle border.