And they shook their sweetness out in their sleep <br />On the brink of that beautiful stream, <br />But it wandered along with a wearisome song <br />Like a lover that walks in a dream: <br />So the roses blew <br />When the winds went through, <br />In the moonlight so white and still; <br />But the river it beat <br />All night at the feet <br />Of a cold and flinty hill - <br />Of a hard and senseless hill! <br /> <br />I said, "We have often showered our loves <br />Upon something as dry as the dust; <br />And the faith that is crost, and the hearts that are lost - <br />Oh! how can we wittingly trust? <br />Like the stream which flows, <br />And wails as it goes. <br />Through the moonlight so white and still, <br />To beat and to beat <br />All night at the feet <br />Of a cold and flinty hill - <br />Of a hard and senseless hill? <br /> <br />"River, I stay where the sweet roses blow, <br />And drink of their pleasant perfumes! <br />Oh, why do you moan, in this wide world alone, <br />When so much affection here blooms? <br />The winds wax faint, <br />And the moon like a saint <br />Glides over the woodlands so white and still! <br />But you beat and you beat <br />All night at the feet <br />Of that cold and flinty hill - <br />Of that hard and senseless hill!"<br /><br />Henry Kendall<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-river-and-the-hill/
