Classic Poem

Swift Rhone ! that from the Alpine glaciers' mine
Thy name and waters gathering, boundest free
Descending gaily night and day with me,
Love my sole guide, and Nature only, thine:
Roll on! roll on! — thy blue stream's arrowy flight
Nor sleep nor weariness can e'er detain
But ere thou pay'st thy tribute to the main
Seek where the Earth's most green, the skies most bright,
So made, by our sweet living sun, whose beam
Gladdens with flowers thy left bank where it plays:
Should she (sweet hope!) too slow my footsteps deem,
While her fair feet and hands thy current stays,
Kiss them, and say in murmurs from thy stream,
" The weary flesh the willing soul delays. "