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C.N. Douglas, comp.  Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical.  1917.
        The river knows the way to the sea:
Without a pilot it runs and falls,
Blessing all lands with its charity.
        See the rivers, how they run,
Changeless to the changeless sea.
Charles Kingsley.    
        The Nile, forever new and old,
Among the living and the dead,
Its mighty, mystic stream has rolled.
        A little stream came tumbling from the height,
And struggling into ocean as it might.
Its bounding crystal frolick’d in the ray,
And gush’d from cliff to crag with saltless spray.
        And see the rivers how they run
Through woods and meads, in shade and sun;
Sometimes swift, sometimes slow,
Wave succeeding wave, they go
A various journey to the deep,
Like human life, to endless sleep!
        Oh, river, gentle river! gliding on
In silence underneath this starless sky!
Thine is a ministry that never rests
Even while the living slumber.
*        *        *        *        *
Thou pausest not in thine allotted task,
Oh, darkling river!
William Cullen Bryant.    
          Oh, river! darkling river! what a voice
Is that thou utterest while all else is still—
The ancient voice that, centuries ago,
Sounded between thy hills, while Rome was yet
A weedy solitude by Tiber’s stream!
William Cullen Bryant.    

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