The River's Lesson

Under the canopied bank we lie,
And the muddy river is rushing by,
Yellow and foul from its eddying stray
Through a thousand miles of wandering way,
Gross and turbid;— and yet, I know
That this same troubled and mingled flow
Shall one day clear as the crystal be.
After it dies in the deep, far sea.

I have watched it long, with an aching brow.
Bending above it, and wonder now
If the river, so full of grime and strife,
May not be an emblem of human life,
And if many a soul that has wandered and toiled,
All corrupted and gross and soiled,
At the end may not calmly glide
Into that last great swallowing tide,
And clear and pure as the crystal be,
After it dies in that deep, far sea.