| THEY told me I had three months to live, | |
| So I crept to Bernadotte, | |
| And sat by the mill for hours and hours | |
| Where the gathered waters deeply moving | |
| Seemed not to move: | 5 |
| O world, that’s you! | |
| You are but a widened place in the river | |
| Where Life looks down and we rejoice for her | |
| Mirrored in us, and so we dream | |
| And turn away, but when again | 10 |
| We look for the face, behold the low-lands | |
| And blasted cotton-wood trees where we empty | |
| Into the larger stream! | |
| But here by the mill the castled clouds | |
| Mocked themselves in the dizzy water; | 15 |
| And over its agate floor at night | |
| The flame of the moon ran under my eyes | |
| Amid a forest stillness broken | |
| By a flute in a hut on the hill. | |
| At last when I came to lie in bed | 20 |
| Weak and in pain, with the dreams about me, | |
| The soul of the river had entered my soul, | |
| And the gathered power of my soul was moving | |
| So swiftly it seemed to be at rest | |
| Under cities of cloud and under | 25 |
| Spheres of silver and changing worlds— | |
| Until I saw a flash of trumpets | |
| Above the battlements over Time! | |
