1ZABETH BARRETT BROWNING

685 Farewells from Paradise

River-sprits

HARK ! the flow of the four rivers Hark the flow'

How the silence round you shivers, While our voices through it go, Cold and clear.

��A sojter voice

Think a little, while ye hear,

Of the banks

Where the willows and the deer Crowd in intermingled ranks, As if all would drink at once Of the fishes' golden edges Flashing in and out the sedges; Of the swans on silver thrones, Floating down the winding streams With impassive eyes turned shoreward And a chant of undertones, And the lotus leaning forward To help them into dreams.

Fare ye well, farewell' The river-sounds, no longer audible,

Expire at Eden's door.

Each footstep of your treading

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