Mad River

TRAVELLER
Why dost thou wildly rush and roar,
&nbsp Mad River, O Mad River?
Wilt thou not pause and cease to pour
Thy hurrying, headlong waters o'er
&nbsp This rocky shelf forever?

What secret trouble stirs thy breast?
&nbsp Why all this fret and flurry?
Dost thou not know that what is best
In this too restless world is rest
&nbsp From over-work and worry?

THE RIVER
What wouldst thou in these mountains seek,
&nbsp O stranger from the city?
Is it perhaps some foolish freak
Of thine, to put the words I speak
&nbsp Into a plaintive ditty?

TRAVELLER
Yes; I would learn of thee thy song,
&nbsp With all its flowing number;
And in a voice as fresh and strong
As thine is, sing it all day long,
&nbsp And hear it in my slumbers.

THE RIVER
A brooklet nameless and unknown
&nbsp Was I at first, resembling
A little child, that all alone
Comes venturing down the stairs of stone,
&nbsp Irresolute and trembling.

Later, by wayward fancies led,
&nbsp For the wide world I panted;
Out of the forest dark and dread
Across the open fields I fled,
&nbsp Like one pursued and haunted.

I tossed my arms, I sang aloud,
&nbsp My voice exultant blending
With thunder from the passing cloud,
The wind, the forest bent and bowed,
&nbsp The rush of rain descending.

I heard the distant ocean call,
&nbsp Imploring and entreating;
Drawn onward, o'er this rocky wall
I plunged, and the loud waterfall
&nbsp Made answer to the greeting.

And now, beset with many ills,
&nbsp A toilsome life I follow;
Compelled to carry from the hills
These logs to the impatient mills
&nbsp Below there in the hollow.

Yet something ever cheers and charms
&nbsp The rudeness of my labors;
Daily I water with these arms
The cattle of a hundred farms,
&nbsp And have the birds for neighbors.

Men call me Mad, and well they may,
&nbsp When, full of rage and trouble,
I burst my banks of sand and clay,
And sweep their wooden bridge away,
&nbsp Like withered reeds or stubble.

Now go and write thy little rhyme,
&nbsp As of thine own creating.
Thou seest the day is past its prime;
I can no longer waste my time;
&nbsp The mills are tired of waiting.