Poems (Kimball)/The River

by Harriet McEwen Kimball

THE RIVER

ABOVE the winding River's brink
 The tall trees wave their branches green;
 Their cool brown roots, washed bare and clean,
Reach down through cooler depths to drink.

"Behold, how heavenly is my task,"
 Methinks the River murmurs low
 "As God bestoweth, I bestow;
To be like Him is all I ask."

O River, thou and I are one
 In sweet desire to serve and be;
 Yet every day I grieve to see
How all my deeds do seaward run!