Rivers And Streams (prose) Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: A B C D E F G H I J K L J M N O P Q

Running water has a charm all its own it proffers companionship of which one never tires it adapts itself to moods it is the guardian of secrets It has cool draughts for the thirsty soul as well as for drooping flowers and they who wander in the garden of God with listening ears learn of its many voicesA
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When the strain of a working day has left me weary perhaps troubled and perplexed I find my way to the river I step into a boat and pull up stream until the exertion has refreshed me and then I make fast to the old alder stump where last year the reed piper nested and lie back in the stern and thinkB
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The water laps against the keel as the boat rocks gently in the current the river flows past strong and quiet There are side eddies of course and little disturbing whirlpools near the big stones but they are all gathered into the broad sweep of the stream carried down to the great catholic sea And while I listen to the murmur of the water and watch its quiet strength the day's wrinkles are smoothed out of my face and at last the river bears me homeward rested and at peaceC
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There are long stretches of time for me when I must remain apart from the world of work often unwilling sometimes with a very sore heart Then I turn my steps towards my friend and wander along the banks a solitary not alone In the quiet evening light I watch the stream 'never hasting never resting' the grass that grows beside it is always green the flowers are fresh it makes long embracing curves I could cross from point to point in a minute but to follow takes five The ways of the water are ways of healing I have a companion who makes no mistakes touches none of my tender spotsD
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Presently I reach the silent pool where the stream takes a wide sweep Here the fair white water lilies lie on their broad green leaves and wait for their lover the moon for then they open their silvery leaves and bloom in the soft light fairer far than beneath the hot rays of the sun Then too the buds rise out of the water and the moon kisses them into bloom and fragrance Near by are the little yellow water lilies set for beauty against a background of great blue eyed forget me nots and tall feathery meadowsweet The river still sweeps on its way but the pool is undisturbed it lies out of the current They say it is very deep no one knows quite how deep and it has its hidden tragedy I gaze down through the clear water following the thick lily stalks a forest where solemn carp sail in and out and perch chase each other through the maze and beyond them I cannot see the bottom the secret of its stillness but I may watch the clouds mirrored on its surface and the evening glow lying at my feetE
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I think of the fathomless depths of the peace of God fair with flowers of hope of still places wrought in man of mirrors that reflect in light uncomprehended the Image of the Holy FaceF
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I go home across the common comforted towards the little town where the red roofs lie glimmering in the evening shadows and the old grey church stands out clear and distinct against the fading skyG
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One of the happiest memories of my childhood is the little brook in the home field I know it was not a very clean little brook it passed through an industrious manufacturing world but to me then this mattered not at allH
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Where it had its source I never found out it came from a little cave in the side of the hill and I remember that one of its banks was always higher than the other I once sought to penetrate the cave but with sad results in the shape of bed before dinner and no pudding such small sympathy have one's elders with the spirit of research Just beyond the cave the brook was quite a respectable width even my big boy cousin fell into mud and disgrace when he tried to jump it and there was a gravelly beach at least several inches square where we launched our boats of hollowed elder wood Soon however it narrowed it could even be stepped over but it was still exciting and delightful with two perilous rapids over which the boats had to be guided and many boulders for the brook was a brave stream and had fashioned its bed in rocky soil Further down was our bridge one flat stone dragged thither by really herculean efforts It was unnecessary but a triumph A little below this outcome of our engineering skill the brook widened again before disappearing under a flagged tunnel into the neighbouring field Here in the shallows we built an aquarium It was not altogether successful because whenever it rained at all hard the beasts were washed out but there was always joy in restocking it Under one of the banks close by lived a fat frog for whom I felt great respect We used to sit and gaze at each other in silent intercourse until he became bored I think I never did and flopped into the water with a splashI
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But it was the brook itself that was my chief and dearest companion It chattered and sang to me and told me of the goblins who lived under the hill of fairies dancing on the grass on moonlight nights and scolding the pale lilac milk maids on the banks and of a sad little old man dressed in brown always sad because his dear water children ran away from him when they heard the voice of the great river telling them of the calling of the seaJ
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It spoke to me of other more wonderful things not even now to be put into words things of the mysteries of a child's imagination and these linger still in my life and will linger I think until they are fulfilledK
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I have another friend a Devonshire stream I found it in spring when the fields along its banks were golden with Lent lilies I do not even know its name it has its source up among the old grey tors and doubtless in its beginning had a hard fight for existence When it reaches the plain it is a good sized stream although nowhere navigable I do not think it even turns a mill it just flows along and waters the flowers I have seen it with my bodily eyes only once but it has left in my life a blessing a picture of blue sky yellow bells and clear rippling water and whispered secrets not forgottenL
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All the Devonshire streams are full of life and strength They chatter cheerily over stones they toil bravely to shape out their bed Some of them might tell horrible tales of the far away past of the worship of the false god when blood stained the clear waters tales too of feud and warfare of grave council and martial gathering and happy stories of fairy and pixy our eyes are too dull to see and of queer little hillmen with foreign ways and terror of all human beings Their banks are bright with tormentil blue with forget me not rich in treasures of starry moss the water is clear cool in the hottest summer they rise under the shadow of the everlasting hills and their goal is the seaJ
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There are other times when I must leave the clean waters and the good brown earth to live for a while in London and there I go on pilgrimage that I may listen to the river's voiceM
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I stand sometimes at a wharf where the ships are being unloaded of the riches of every country of fruits of labour by my unknown brothers in strange lands and the river speaks of citizenship in the great world of God wherein all men have place each man have his own place and every one should be neighbour to him who may have needN
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I pass on to London Bridge our Bridge of Sighs How many of these my brethren have sought refuge in the cold grey arms of the river from something worse than death What drove them to this dreadful resting place What spectre hurried them to the leap These things too are my concern the river saysO
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Life is very grim in London it is not painted in the fair glowing colours of grass and sky and trees and shining streams that bring peace It is drawn in hard black and white but the voice of its dark waters must be heard all the sameP
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I would not leave my rivers in the shadow After all this life is only a prelude a beginning we pass on to where the rivers and streams make glad the city of God But if we will not listen here how shall we understand hereafterQ

Michael Fairless



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