The poetical works of Edwin Oscar Gale . es it seem,As we think of it yet, in a ruminant old alchemist, Sol, of the waves, silver the zephyr-kissed waters their dimples displayed. Did we ever think then, what we all know to-dayThat the charms of the river could eer pass away ?They would fade like the flowers, we then so admired,Dropping down midst their fragrance, when heated and we think that the pile-drivers, docks and the dredgeWould destroy both the perch and their homes in the sedge? That the monsters of commerce would come with their steam,That canal boats
The poetical works of Edwin Oscar Gale . es it seem,As we think of it yet, in a ruminant old alchemist, Sol, of the waves, silver the zephyr-kissed waters their dimples displayed. Did we ever think then, what we all know to-dayThat the charms of the river could eer pass away ?They would fade like the flowers, we then so admired,Dropping down midst their fragrance, when heated and we think that the pile-drivers, docks and the dredgeWould destroy both the perch and their homes in the sedge? That the monsters of commerce would come with their steam,That canal boats would crowd it, and tugs shrieking screamWith their soot and their smoke, which we cannot abateBut receive in our faces, when bridged we must wait?Did we think that the City, undeigning to ask,Would enforce on the stream its unsavory making it do what seemed best for the it standing quite still, running up hill, or down? Let us romp to the river that some of us knew,Drawing back the old veil, that again we may view 128. When the banks of the stream where we strolled with our rod,Were embroidered with blossoms that scented the sod. The silver-tipped stream with the turf to the brink,Boyish faces reflecting who stooped there to us rest on the bank as we did years ago,Let us watch the bark shallops we in it may throwTill they sweep from our sight to be lost on the sea,Let us wonder as then where their haven may be. Of the boys who then sent them, slow drifting away,Very few near the banks have continued to stay,But have drifted like sticks by their idle hands cast,While we wondered what haven they moored in at the barks that then Eastward, now Southward will arriving at last on the same boundless deep,So the friends that went drifting long since from our sight,We will find that lifes tides will all some day unite. We are drifting, old mates, drifting out to the we cannot, we should not, we will not complain,Though the storms o
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookidpoeticalwork, bookyear1906
