by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
O darling river! like a bride,
Some dimpled, bashful, fair Lisette,
Thou goest to wed the Orge's tide.
The valley of Chevreuse in vain
Would hold thee in its fond embrace;
Thou glidest from its arms again,
And hurriest on with swifter pace.
Pursuing still thine onward flight,
Thou goest as one in haste to meet
Her sole desire, her heart's delight.
O darling stream! on balanced wings
The wood-birds sang the chansonnette
That here a wandering poet sings.