THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER.

How soft this moonlight of the South! How sweet my South in soft moonlight! I want to kiss her warm sweet mouth As she lies sleeping here to-night.

How still! I do not hear a mouse. I see some bursting buds appear; I hear God in His garden,—hear Him trim some flowers for His house.

I hear some singing stars; the mouth Of my vast river sings and sings, And pipes on reeds of pleasant things,— Of splendid promise for my South:

My great South-woman, soon to rise And tiptoe up and loose her hair; Tiptoe, and take from all the skies God's stars and glorious moon to wear!