River Song

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.

Kate Seymour Maclean

Kate Seymour Maclean, born on January 6, 1829, was a Canadian poet who carved out a significant place for herself in the literary scene of her time. Her poetry often reflected the deep appreciation she had for nature, and she was renowned for her elegant and evocative style. Maclean's work was well-regarded by her contemporaries, and she maintained correspondence with others in the literary community, including famous poets like Bliss Carman and Charles G.D. Roberts. She passed away on March 23, 1914, but her contributions to Canadian literature have left a lasting legacy.

Kate Seymour Maclean

The Old Church On The Hill.

Kate Seymour Maclean, Simple Poetry

Forgotten Songs.

Kate Seymour Maclean, Simple Poetry

Ballad Of The Mad Ladye.

Kate Seymour Maclean, Simple Poetry

The Burial Of The Scout.

Kate Seymour Maclean, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Floating Down The River.

My little bark glides steadily along,
    Still and unshaken as a summer dream;
    And never falls the oar into the stream,
For 'tis but morning, and the current strong;
    So let the ripples bear me as they will;
Sweet, sweet is Life, and every sound is song;
    Sorrow lies sleeping, and Joy sends me still
            Swift floating down the River.

Bright shines the sun athwart the linden-trees;
    One little cloud alone steals o'er the sky,
    As o'er the widening stream below steal I,
Fann'd by the same faint perfume-laden breeze;
    Bird-music answers sweetly through the air,
The unheard warbling of heart melodies;
    Thus go I dreaming, free from faintest care,
            Swift floating down the River.

Pure lie the broad-leaved lilies ...

Walter R. Cassels

Summer Rain

O rain, Summer Rain! forever,
    Out of the crystal spheres,
And cool from my brain the fever,
    And wash from my eyes the tears

Stir gently the blossoming clover,
    In the hollows dewy and deep,--
Somewhere they are blossoming over
    The spot where I shall sleep.

Asleep from this wearisome aching,
    With my arms crossed under my head,
I shall hear without awaking,
    The rain that blesses the dead.

And the ocean of man's existence,--
    The surges of toil and care,
Shall break and die in the distance,
    But never reach me there.

And yet--I fancy it often--
    I should stir in my shrouded sleep,
And struggle to rise in my coffin,
    If he came there to weep.

Among the dead--or the angels--
 ...

Kate Seymour Maclean

Bird Song.

                Art thou not sweet,
Oh world, and glad to the inmost heart of thee!
        All creatures rejoice
        With one rapturous voice.
    As I, with the passionate beat
    Of my over-full heart feel thee sweet,
And all things that live, and are part of thee!

                Light, light as a cloud
Swimming, and trailing its shadow under me
        I float in the deep
        As a bird-dream in sleep,
    And hear the wind murmuring loud,
    Far down, where the tree-tops are bowed,--
And I see where the secret place of the thunders be

                Oh! the sky free and wide,
With all the cloud-banners flung out in it
        Its singing wind blows
        As a grand river flows,
    And I swim down its rhythmical tide,

Kate Seymour Maclean

The River Maiden

Her gown was simple woven wool,
But, in repayment,
Her body sweet made beautiful
The simplest raiment:

For all its fine, melodious curves
With life a-quiver
Were graceful as the bends and swerves
Of her own river.

Her round arms, from the shoulders down
To sweet hands slender,
The sun had kissed them amber-brown
With kisses tender.

For though she loved the secret shades
Where ferns grow stilly,
And wild vines droop their glossy braids,
And gleams the lily,

And Nature, with soft eyes that glow
In gloom that glistens,
Unto her own heart, beating slow,
In silence listens:

She loved no less the meadows fair,
And green, and spacious;
The river, and the azure air,
And sunlight gracious.

I sa...

Victor James Daley

Song of the River

    A river went singing adown 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 peacefulest 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
       ...

Abram Joseph Ryan

Tide-Water.

Through many-winding valleys far inland,
A maze among the convoluted hills,
Of rocks up-piled, and pines on either hand,
And meadows ribbanded with silver rills,
Faint, mingled-up, composite sweetnesses
Of scented grass and clover, and the blue
Wild-violet hid in muffling moss and fern,
Keen and diverse another breath cleaves through,
Familiar as the taste of tears to me,
As on my lips, insistent, I discern
The salt and bitter kisses of the sea.

The tide sets up the river; mimic fleetnesses
Of little wavelets, fretted by the shells
And shingle of the beach, circle and eddy round,
And smooth themselves perpetually: there dwells
A spirit of peace in their low murmuring noise
Subsiding into quiet, as if life were such
A struggle with inexorable bound,<...

Kate Seymour Maclean