THE SONG of the water
Doomed ever to roam,
A beautiful exile,
Afar from its home.

The cliffs on the mountain,
The grand and the gray,
They took the bright creature
And hurled it away!

I heard the wild downfall,
And knew it must spill
A passionate heart out
All over the hill.

Oh! was it a daughter
Of sorrow and sin,
That they threw it so madly
Down into the lynn?
. . . . .
And listen, my Sister,
For this is the song
The Waterfall taught me
The ridges among:-

-Oh where are the shadows
So cool and so sweet
And the rocks,� saith the water,
-With the moss on their feet?

-Oh, where are my playmates
The wind and the flowers-
The golden and purple-
Of honey-sweet bowers,

-Mine eyes have been blinded
Because of the sun;
And moaning and moaning
I listlessly run.

-These hills are so flinty!-
Ah! tell me, dark Earth,
What valley leads back to
The place of my birth?-

-What valley leads up to
The haunts where a child
Of the caverns I sported,
The free and the wild?

-There lift me,�-it crieth,
-I faint from the heat;
With a sob for the shadows
So cool and so sweet.�

Ye rocks, that look over
With never a tear,
I yearn for one half of
The wasted love here!

My sister so wistful,
You know I believe,
Like a child for the mountains
This water doth grieve.

Ah! you with the blue eyes
And golden-brown hair,
Come closer and closer
And truly declare:-

Supposing a darling
Once happened to sin,
In a passionate space,
Would you carry her in-

If your fathers and mothers,
The grand and the gray,
Had taken the weak one
And hurled her away?