Nashville patriot. [volume] (Nashville, Tenn.) 1858-1860, 1858-05-24
IRON Hdpcr's Monthly for june
A Night scene.
BY WILLIAM crIIEs urrAs;

Oh River, gentle River, gliding On.
In silence, underneath this startless sky
Thine is ministry that never rests
Even while the living siumber- Fora time,
The meddier, man, hath len the elements
n peace; the powman breaks the clcds no more;
The miner labors not, with steel and IRE,
To rend the rock; and he that hews the stone,
And he that fells the forest; be that guides
The loaded vain, and the poor animal
That drags il, have forgot ten, for while,
Their tolls, and share the quiet OF the EARTH
Thou pausest not in thine allotted task, ~
Oh darkiing Rvert through the night hear
Thy wavelets ripping on the pebbly beach,
hear thy current stir the rusting sedge
That skirts thy bed; thou insermtiest not
Thine everlasting journey, drawing on
silvery train from many mountain brock
And woodland spring. The dweIler by thy side,
Who meored his little boat upon thy beach,
Though all the waters that upbore il then
Have slid away DER night, shall find, at morn,
Thy channel filed with waters freshly drawn
From distant cliffs, and hoIlows where the rll
Comes up amid the water flags Ali night
Thou giyesf moisture TO the thirsty roots
OF the 1.-the willow and o'erhanging plane,
And cherishest the heritage on thy bank,
speckied with little flowers; and sendest up,
Perpetually. the vapors from thy face
To steep the hills with dew, darken heaven
With ching clouds that tralthe abundantshow
On glide thy waters till at last they flow
Beneath the windows Of the populous town,
And all night long give back the CLEAN Of lamps,
And glimmer with the trains Of light that stream
From halls VIII IRE dancers whirl A DINNER ray
Touchesthy surface from the silent room
In which they tend the sick, or gather round
The dying; and a slender steady beam
Comes from the little chamber in the roof,
Where, with feverous crimson on her cheek,
The solitary damsel, dying too,
Plies the quick needle till the stars grow pale.
There close beside the haunts of revel, stand
The blank, unghted windows, where the poor
In darkness and in hunger, wake till morn,
There, drOwsily, on the half-conscious
OF the duh watchman, pacing on the wharf,
Falls the soft ripple Of thy waves that strike
On the moored bark; but guiltier listeners
Are near, the providers of the night, who steal
Erfarr had nglaa An.-x cfar
II other sounds than thine are in the air.
Oh glide away from those abodes, that bring
Pollution to thy channel and make foul
Thy once clear current summon Thy quick waves
And dmpiing eddies; lnger not, but haste,
e r al ~ hs sSssed by shifting winds rocsd
BY that mysterious force which lives within
The seas immensely, and wields the weight
OF its abysses, swaying. to and fro,
The billowy mess, until the stain at length.
Shall wholly pass away and thou regain
The crystal brightness of thy mountain springs.
oh River, darkling River what a voice
Is that thou interest while all else is still
The ancient voice that, centuries ago,
Sounded between thy hills while Rome was yet
weedy solitude by Theirs stream
How many, at this hour, along thy course,
Sumber 10 thine eternal murmurings,
That mingle with the utterance of their dreams!
At dead of night the child awakes and hears
Thy soft, familiar dashings, and is soothed,
And sleeps again. An airy multitude
OF little echoes. all unheard by day,
Family repeat, till morning, after thee,
The story of thine endless going forth
Yet there are those who lie beside thy bed,
For whom thou ddst the bowers that screen
Thy margin, and ddst water the green fields,
And now there is no night still that they
Can hear thy lapse their slumbers, were thy voice
Louder than oceans, it could never break.
For the them early violet no more
Opens upon thy bank nor for their eyes,
Glitter the crimson pictures of the clouds
Upon thy bosom, when the sun goes down.
Their memories are abroad-the memories
or those who last were gathered to the earth
Lingering within the homes in which they sat,
lowering about the paths in which they trod,
Haunting them like presence Even now
They visit many dreamer in the forms
They walked in ere, at last, they wore the shroud;
And eyes there that will not close TO dream,
For weeping and for thinking OF the grave,
The new made grave, and the pale one within.
These memories and these sorrows all shall fade
And pass away, and fresher memories
And newer sorrows come and dwell a while
Beside thy border, and, in turn, depart