Oh fair Passaic! softly winding Through wooded slopes and banks of green, With all thy loveliness reminding Of scenes in dreamland's dim demesne. Full oft along thy grassy border I've strolled, in admiration lost; Or watched thy waves in wild disorder Within yon rocky cavern tossed. And yet, from that abyss, all surging With foam and spray and torrent's wrath, I've seen thee, purified, emerging To seek anew thy seaward path; And onward thence, through landscape rarer Than painter's brush could e'er portray -- No mortal eye hath looked on fairer -- Thou passest on thy peaceful way. Till in the blue and hazy distance Thou gleamest like a silver thread. Oh river! type of man's existence! In thee, Life's lesson may be read. Like thine, our griefs and passions mortal Oft plunge us in some dark abyss, Through which we, groping, find the portal To brighter, purer, scenes of bliss. |