ONE THOUSAND FAMOUS THINGS 183
The Traveller and the River
Traveller
Wmr dost thou wildly rush and roar,
Mad River, O Mad River ?
Wilt thou not pause and cease to pour
Thy hurrying, headlong waters o*er
This rocky shelf forever ?
What secret trouble stirs thy breast ?
Why all this fret and flurry ?
Dost thou not know that what is best
In this too restless world is rest
From overwork and worry ?
The River
What would'st thou in these mountains seeks
0 stranger from the city ?
Is it perhaps some foolish freak
Of thine, to put the words I speak
Into a plaintive ditty ?
Traveller
Yes ; I would leam of thee thy song,
With all its flowing numbers,
And, in a voice as fresh and strong
As thine is, sing it all day long,
And hear it in my slumbers.
The River
A brooklet nameless and unknown
Was I at first, resembling
A little child, that all alone
Comes venturing down the stairs of stone
Irresolute and trembling.
Later, by wayward fancies led,
For the wide world I panted ;
Out of the forest dark and dread
Across the open fields I fled
Like one pursued and haunted.
1 tossed my arms, I sang aloud,
My voice exultant blending
With thunder from the passing cloud,
The wind, the forest bent and bowed,
The rush of rain descending.