THE RIVER. 



J. T. HOPKINS. 



From dells where feeble streamlets play, 

 To meet and mingle as they go ; 

 Where mountain channel points the way 

 For floods of rain and melting snow ; 

 Where brooks their limpid volume lend, 

 Where all in one the waters blend ; 



Thence springs the noble river. 



When Nature hid her charming face, 

 Her marvelous beauties long unseen ; 

 Ere wandering tribe or lordlier race . 

 In her sequestered realms had been; 

 As then, as now, it onward flows, 

 With noiseless movement comes and 

 goes — 



Sweeps grandly on — the river. 



"THENCE SPRINGS THE NOBLE RIVER. 



*7 



