Explore "The Voice of the Waters" by George William Russell on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Where the Greyhound River windeth through a loneliness so deep, / Scarce a wild fowl shakes the quiet that the purple boglands keep, / Only God exults in silence over fields no man may reap.
Where the silver wave with sweetness fed the tiny lives of grass / I was bent above, my image mirrored in the fleeting glass, / And a voice from out the water through my being seemed to pass.
"Still above the waters brooding, spirit, in thy timeless quest; / Was the glory of thine image trembling over east and west / Not divine enough when mirrored in the morning water's breast?"
With the sighing voice that murmured I was borne to ages dim / Ere the void was lit with beauty breathed upon by seraphim, / We were cradled there together folded in the peace in Him.
One to be the master spirit, one to be the slave awoke, / One to shape itself obedient to the fiery words we spoke, / Flame and flood and stars and mountains from the primal waters broke.
I was huddled in the heather when the vision failed its light, / Still and blue and vast above me towered aloft the solemn height, / Where the stars like dewdrops glistened on the mountain slope of night.