Human life is like a river--
Its brightness lasts not on for ever--
That dances from its native braes,
As pure as maidhood's early days;
But soon, with dark and sullen motion,
It rolls into its funeral ocean,
And those whose currents are the slightest,
And shortest run, are aye the brightest:
So is our life--its latest wave
Rolls dark and solemn to the grave.
_Ettrick Shepherd_.
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