THE RILLY RIVER
Thecold and turbid flood of SpringHas melted to the Summer shallow,And now the vivid greeneries clingAlong the margin lush and fallow,And where were sombre deeps and chillsAre silver trills of rippling rills.The loiterer upon the bridgeWhich o’er the eddying river poisesSalutes the island’s sandy ridgeThat reappears; the eye rejoicesIn all the old familiar frillsAnd saucy spills of rippling rills.The rod and reel the rapture feelAnd from the boat take finny chances,But less for luck than with the keelTo be a part of runic dances;For thus the river’s music thrillsLike joy that fills the rippling rills.
Thecold and turbid flood of SpringHas melted to the Summer shallow,And now the vivid greeneries clingAlong the margin lush and fallow,And where were sombre deeps and chillsAre silver trills of rippling rills.The loiterer upon the bridgeWhich o’er the eddying river poisesSalutes the island’s sandy ridgeThat reappears; the eye rejoicesIn all the old familiar frillsAnd saucy spills of rippling rills.The rod and reel the rapture feelAnd from the boat take finny chances,But less for luck than with the keelTo be a part of runic dances;For thus the river’s music thrillsLike joy that fills the rippling rills.
Thecold and turbid flood of SpringHas melted to the Summer shallow,And now the vivid greeneries clingAlong the margin lush and fallow,And where were sombre deeps and chillsAre silver trills of rippling rills.
Thecold and turbid flood of Spring
Has melted to the Summer shallow,
And now the vivid greeneries cling
Along the margin lush and fallow,
And where were sombre deeps and chills
Are silver trills of rippling rills.
The loiterer upon the bridgeWhich o’er the eddying river poisesSalutes the island’s sandy ridgeThat reappears; the eye rejoicesIn all the old familiar frillsAnd saucy spills of rippling rills.
The loiterer upon the bridge
Which o’er the eddying river poises
Salutes the island’s sandy ridge
That reappears; the eye rejoices
In all the old familiar frills
And saucy spills of rippling rills.
The rod and reel the rapture feelAnd from the boat take finny chances,But less for luck than with the keelTo be a part of runic dances;For thus the river’s music thrillsLike joy that fills the rippling rills.
The rod and reel the rapture feel
And from the boat take finny chances,
But less for luck than with the keel
To be a part of runic dances;
For thus the river’s music thrills
Like joy that fills the rippling rills.