It blended itself with the flow of our lives. Almost
the first of my poemlets in the "Lowell Offering" was entitled
"The River." These are some lines of it:--
"Gently flowed a river bright
On its path of liquid light,
Gleaming now soft banks between,
Winding now through valleys green,
Cheering with its presence mild
Cultured fields and woodlands wild.
"Is not such a pure one's life?
Ever shunning pride and strife,
Noiselessly along she goes,
Known by gentle deeds she does;
Often wandering far, to bless,
And do others kindnesses.
"Thus, by her own virtues shaded,
While pure thoughts, like starbeams, lie
Mirrored in her heart and eye,
She, content to be unknown,
All serenely moveth on,
Till, released from Time's commotion,
Self is lost in Love's wide ocean."
There was many a young girl near me whose life was like the
beautiful course of the river in my ideal of her. The Merrimack
has blent its music with the onward song of many a lovely soul
that, clad in plain working-clothes, moved heavenward beside its
waters.
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