| OVER the river they beckon to me,— | |
| Loved ones who 've cross'd to the farther side; | |
| The gleam of their snowy robes I see | |
| But their voices are drown'd in the rushing tide. | |
| There 's one with ringlets of sunny gold, | 5 |
| And eyes, the reflection of heaven's own blue; | |
| He crossed in the twilight, gray and cold, | |
| And the pale mist hid him from mortal view. | |
| We saw not the angels who met him there; | |
| The gates of the city we could not see; | 10 |
| Over the river, over the river, | |
| My brother stands waiting to welcome me. | |
| |
| Over the river, the boatman pale | |
| Carried another,—the household pet: | |
| Her brown curls waved in the gentle gale— | 15 |
| Darling Minnie! I see her yet. | |
| She cross'd on her bosom her dimpled hands, | |
| And fearlessly enter'd the phantom bark; | |
| We watch'd it glide from the silver sands, | |
| And all our sunshine grew strangely dark. | 20 |
| We know she is safe on the farther side, | |
| Where all the ransom'd and angels be; | |
| Over the river, the mystic river, | |
| My childhood's idol is waiting for me. | |
| |
| For none return from those quiet shores, | 25 |
| Who cross with the boatman cold and pale; | |
| We hear the dip of the golden oars, | |
| And catch a gleam of the snowy sail,— | |
| And lo! they have pass'd from our yearning heart; | |
| They cross the stream, and are gone for aye; | 30 |
| We may not sunder the veil apart, | |
| That hides from our vision the gates of day. | |
| We only know that their barks no more | |
| May sail with us o'er life's stormy sea; | |
| Yet somewhere, I know, on the unseen shore, | 35 |
| They watch, and beckon, and wait for me. | |
| |
| And I sit and think, when the sunset's gold | |
| Is flushing river, and hill, and shore, | |
| I shall one day stand by the water cold, | |
| And list for the sound of the boatman's oar; | 40 |
| I shall watch for a gleam of the flapping sail; | |
| I shall hear the boat as it gains the strand; | |
| I shall pass from sight, with the boatman pale, | |
| To the better shore of the spirit land; | |
| I shall know the loved who have gone before,— | 45 |
| And joyfully sweet will the meeting be, | |
| When over the river, the peaceful river, | |
| The Angel of Death shall carry me. | |
