To the River Medway
Thou stream of beauty! gentle, varied, wide!
Long have I wandered on thy grassy shore —
Which now in loneliness I lean beside,
And listen to thy musical calm roar.
Were Beings' war of hopes and fears but o'er,
Or for one moment could I deem it so,
Thy placid sweetness might to me restore
Something as pure as peace, as soft as woe
That weeps for what it loved, but sees no more, —
And thus half heal a heart pierced to its inmost core.
But Life's war is not over; — nor can'st thou,
Full as thou art of Nature's kindest lore.
The boon of peace, the balm of joy bestow —
On one whom fate hath doomed to sigh for evermore!
Long have I wandered on thy grassy shore —
Which now in loneliness I lean beside,
And listen to thy musical calm roar.
Were Beings' war of hopes and fears but o'er,
Or for one moment could I deem it so,
Thy placid sweetness might to me restore
Something as pure as peace, as soft as woe
That weeps for what it loved, but sees no more, —
And thus half heal a heart pierced to its inmost core.
But Life's war is not over; — nor can'st thou,
Full as thou art of Nature's kindest lore.
The boon of peace, the balm of joy bestow —
On one whom fate hath doomed to sigh for evermore!
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