UPON the river’s brink I stand
Beside the rushing water’s flow,
And look from off the shore I know,
The safe and dear familiar land,
Unto another shore, which lies
Mist-veiled beneath the crimsoning skies.
This is a shore, and that a shore.
Does the earth cease, to rise once more
Beyond the river’s span?
Ah no! the shores are clasped in one;
The same firm earth goes on, goes on,
Though hidden for a little space
From eye or tread of man.
Upon another shore we stand
Beside a darker water’s flow,
And catch beyond the earth we know
Faint glimpses of another land
Dreaming in sunshine, half descried
Beyond the rushing river-tide.
It is life here, and life is there:
We look from fair things to most fair,
The river rolls between;
But held and bound and clasped in one,
Immortal life goes on, goes on,
Though only from the farther strand
The union can be seen.