WHY hurry, little river, br Why hurry to the sea? br There is nothing there to do br But to sink into the blue br And all forgotten be. br There is nothing on that shore br But the tides for evermore, br And the faint and far-off line br Where the winds across the brine br For ever, ever roam br And never find a home. br br Why hurry, little river, br From the mountains and the mead, br Where the graceful elms are sleeping br And the quiet cattle feed? br The loving shadows cool br The deep and restful pool; br And every tribute stream br Brings its own sweet woodland dream br Of the mighty woods that sleep br Where the sighs of earth are deep, br And the silent skies look down br On the savage mountain's frown. br br Oh, linger, little river, br Your banks are all so fair, br Each morning is a hymn of praise, br Each evening is a prayer. br All day the sunbeams glitter br On your shallows and your bars, br And at night the dear God stills you br With the music of the stars.