INDOLENT RIVER 
There is a restful sense of com- 
panionship in a delightfully lazy 
and indolent river. It shows no 
trace of that troublesome, dis- 
quieting energy which betokens 
an object in view. It never suggests the necessity 
of being somewhere at a certain time. Its art is 
not marred by a purpose. The vice of industry 
is foreign to it, and it lingers in the serenity of 
contentment. The Poet of Democracy sees national 
perfection “ where none is industrious or respect- 
able/' and he might have found along this loitering 
river a perfect retreat to loaf and invite his soul. 
There are no straightened channels, no drained 
marshes, no landscaped banks, nor other manifesta- 
tions of oppressive respectability, and the drowsy 
water lingers among winding banks of vegetation, 
where the remotest thought of industry would 
pass out in the sleep of satisfaction. The rushes 
grow lusty and indolent, purifying the decay of 
each succeeding season. The Dodder comes abund- 
antly from the ground in the spring and clasps the 
growing Golden-rod, shaking loose its hold on the 
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