Smiling river, smiling river,
On thy bosom sun-beams play;
Though theyre fleeting areating,
Thou hast more deceit than they.
In they el, in thy el,
Choked with ooze and gravlly stones,
Deep immersed, and unhearsed,
Lies young Edwards corse: his bones.
Ever whitening, ever whitening,
As thy waves against them dash;
What thy torrent, in the current,
Swallowd, now it helps to wash.
As if senseless, as if senseless
Things had feeling in this case;
What so blindly, and unkindly,
It destroyd, it now does grace.