“LEUDEMANN'S-ON-THE-RIVER.”

By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Toward even when the day leans down

To kiss the upturned face of night,

Out just beyond the loud-voiced town

I know a spot of calm delight.

Like crimson arrows from a quiver

The red rays pierce the waters flowing

While we go dreaming, singing, rowing

To Leudemann's-on-the-River.

The hills, like some glad mocking-bird,

Send back our laughter and our singing,

While faint — and yet more faint is heard

The steeple bells all sweetly ringing.

Some message did the winds deliver

To each glad heart that August night,

All heard, but all heard not aright;

By Leudemann's-on-the-River.

Night falls as in some foreign clime,

Between the hills that slope and rise.

So dusk the shades at landing time,

We could not see each other's eyes.

We only saw the moonbeams quiver

Far down upon the stream! that night

The new moon gave but little light

By Leudemann's-on-the-River.

How dusky were those paths that led

Up from the river to the hall.

The tall trees branching overhead

Invite the early shades that fall.

In all the glad blithe world, oh, never

Were hearts more free from care than when

We wandered through those walks, we ten,

By Leudemann's-on-the-River.

So soon, so soon, the changes came.

This August day we two alone,

On that same river, not the same,

Dream of a night forever flown.

Strange distances have come to sever

The hearts that gayly beat in pleasure,

Long miles we cannot cross or measure —

From Leudemann's-on-the-River.

We'll pluck two leaves, dear friend, to-day.

The green, the russet! seems it strange

So soon, so soon, the leaves can change!

Ah, me! so runs all life away.

This night wind chills me, and I shiver;

The Summer time is almost past.

One more good-bye — perhaps the last

To Leudemann's-on-the-River.