Once I gurgled with a hiss
In the glacier’s cold abyss.
Dull and muffled was my song
As I felt my way along
Through the mystic caves of glass
Far below the great crevasse.
Now I greet the blessed light,
Out of night and bursting white—
Baby-giant—keen to forge,
Loudly laughing, through the gorge;
Straddling rocks and riding bumps,
Brushing branches, hurdling stumps,
Peevish, boiling, sluggish, slack,
Lunging forward, swirling back;
Leaping from a bouldered dale,
Snaking through a clay-banked swale,
Draining streams from every draw
Down into my hungry maw,
Swelling with the tribute paid—
This is how a river’s made.