To a River in Which a Child Was Drowned

Smiling river, smiling river,

On thy bosom sun-beams play;

Though theyre fleeting and retreating,

Thou hast more deceit than they.

In they channel, in thy channel,

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.