The River and the Hill

And they shook their sweetness out in their sleep,     On the brink of that beautiful stream,     But it wandered along with a wearisome song     Like a lover that walks in a dream:     So the roses blew     When the winds went through,     In the moonlight so white and so still;     But the river it beat     All night at the feet     Of a cold and flinty hill     Of a hard and senseless hill!     I said, We have often showered our loves     Upon something as dry as the dust;     And the faith that is crost, and the hearts that are lost     Oh! how can we wittingly trust?     Like the stream which flows,     And wails as it goes,     Through the moonlight so white and so still,     To beat and to beat     All night at the feet     Of a cold and flinty hill     Of a hard and senseless hill?     River, I stay where the sweet roses blow,     And drink of their pleasant perfumes!     Oh, why do you moan, in this wide world alone,     When so much affection here blooms?     The winds wax faint,     And the Moon like a Saint     Glides over the woodlands so white and so still!     But you beat and you beat     All night at the feet     Of that cold and flinty hill     Of that hard and senseless hill!