Songo River

Nowhere such a devious stream,     Save in fancy or in dream,     Winding slow through bush and brake     Links together lake and lake.     Walled with woods or sandy shelf,     Ever doubling on itself     Flows the stream, so still and slow     That it hardly seems to flow.     Never errant knight of old,     Lost in woodland or on wold,     Such a winding path pursued     Through the sylvan solitude.     Never school-boy in his quest     After hazel-nut or nest,     Through the forest in and out     Wandered loitering thus about.     In the mirror of its tide     Tangled thickets on each side     Hang inverted, and between     Floating cloud or sky serene.     Swift or swallow on the wing     Seems the only living thing,     Or the loon, that laughs and flies     Down to those reflected skies.     Silent stream! thy Indian name     Unfamiliar is to fame;     For thou hidest here alone,     Well content to be unknown.     But thy tranquil waters teach     Wisdom deep as human speech,     Moving without haste or noise     In unbroken equipoise.     Though thou turnest no busy mill,     And art ever calm and still,     Even thy silence seems to say     To the traveller on his way:--     "Traveller, hurrying from the heat     Of the city, stay thy feet!     Rest awhile, nor longer waste     Life with inconsiderate haste!     "Be not like a stream that brawls     Loud with shallow waterfalls,     But in quiet self-control     Link together soul and soul"