VI: To The Same River

I may not emulate their lofty aim,
Who, in divine imagination, bold,
With mighty hills and streams communion hold,
As living friends; and scarce I dare to claim
Acquaintance with thee in thy scenes of fame,
Wealthiest of rivers, though in days of old
I loved thee where thy waters sylvan roll'd,
And still would deem thee in thy pride the same!
So love perversely cleaves to some old mate
Estranged by fortune; in his very pride
Seems lifted; waxes in his greatness great;
And silent hails the lot it prophesied,--
Content to think in manhood's palmy state
Some lingering traces of the child abide.