Blue veins that pace from on high Or saunter, streaming in a drowsy Way, day napping light into ocean Sleep, carousing with slides of time And dearest travelers to keep— Where do you come from? What is your source, a holy well Or mountain tarn, the fallen cloud, The rising waters that bursting sun So ordains, what the wistful, traveling Birds are want to herald by all thy names As they speak from above on spry wings? In my final day shall I know such peace That your drifting lay delivers? Or shall The moon unface me as I dive into Lost cloaks of the eternal oceans? River, my final driver, take me on Those pathways to the seas, With open eyes welcoming Under the lacing lakes, Of greatest garment, The bedding nights Of gentle stars.