River



Away, away, the river runs
O’er verdant fields, ‘neath rising sun,
From mountain’s peak or cavern hall
At last, from rocky cliff to fall.

‘Mid forests green, and timber old,
‘Neath aspens clothed in leaves of gold
Along it flows, the lively stream,
To water well where drought has been.


Though Time may fell the woodlands deep,
And slow beat down the mountain peak,
Yet river’s flow may yet remain,
Alive to make the earth again.



Photo taken at Watson's Mill State Park, GA

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