Poems (Ripley)/The Mountain Stream

Poems
by Lillie Rosalie Ripley
The Mountain Stream
4529954Poems — The Mountain StreamLillie Rosalie Ripley
THE MOUNTAIN STREAM
Far up a mountain, cool, and grand, and vast,
A mountain stream had birth! to life it sprang,
As from a giant's brain, a mighty thought,
And from its bubbling depths sweet music rang!

It flowed along 'mong moss and maidenhair—
And the sweetly-scented, trailing Arbutus,
And mountain Laurel, with buds like tiny shells,
And blossoms fashioned into many a truss.

It flowed on swiftly 'neath tall, whispering pines,
And divers kinds of trees and underbrush;
Anon, it sprang o'er many a bedded rock
Creating symphonies in its swirl and rush.

And many a timid, mountain denizen
Came there to drink and sport within its depths;
And many a bird came there to bathe and splash,
As o'er wide stones it sped like downward steps.

And soon it left the mountain far behind.
And wound among the hills in silver sheen,
Where wild-flowers carpeted the tender grass
And shown like clustered stars among the green.

On, on it went, where trees did interlace
Their branches, high, above its onward rush;
And willows graced its banks in graceful clumps;
And o'er it rang the music of the thrush.

It sped through meadows, where forget-me-nots
Did grace its banks in knots, like sweet, blue eyes;
And rushes stood knee-deep within its depths,
Like slender bathers, pausing maiden-wise.

Still on it flowed 'neath many a rustic bridge
Where lovers lingered in the soft twilight
And listened to its music as it sped,
While in their eyes there glanced the old lovelight.

Then dreamily it loitered 'mong sweet fields,
Where meadow grasses rippled like the sea,—
And graceful birds did clip the sunny air
In search of coolness in some leafy tree.

Then on it glanced through many a deep, green wood,
Where many a delicate blossom starred the earth;
And many a delicate vine and clump of fern,
Along its gracious banks, sprang into birth.

Still on, creating beauty every-where,
And spreading life and moisture far and wide,—
And singing merrily, as if in glee:
A water-symphony long the mountain side.

On, on it sped to join a deep, blue lake,
That gleamed like to a monster, sapphire gem,
In the golden light of the sweet, midsummer sun,
Gracing the horizon, like a broidered hem.

A city nestled close upon its banks,
Through which the mountain stream must swiftly pass.—
Through many a culvert, on it glanced full swift,
Then out into the sun, 'tween banks of grass.

Then close it wound beneath a wooded hill,
Then 'neath a dingy culvert, foul and dark,
And full of oozy slime, and sticky mould,
Which left upon its waters a foul mark.

Its limpid clearness faded to dull gray,
And scarce a darting minnow remained in it,
And losing all its freshness, became foul;
To even bathe the hands it was unfit.

And poisoned by the hand of man it grew
To be a sad menace to life and health;
And as it sped to join the glittering lake
It entered sluggishly, as if by stealth:

Staining its bosom with a muddy cloud,
And poisoning the fish along its banks.
It had received from every living thing,
Except the hand of man, most gracious thanks.