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THE JUNCTION OF THE RHONE AND THE ARVE.

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

GENEVA'S tranquil, azure lake

A river floweth through;

'Neath her old stones its way doth take,

With waters clear and blue.

From endless snows a torrent foams,

From hoary glacier gray;

Through mighty crags and rocky domes

It carves its rugged way.

In sombre gorge, whose bastioned walls

Scarce let the sunbeams through,

The gray and turbid torrent falls

Into the river blue.

On frothing crest the rivers rear,

With mad contention torn,

Their waters, both from peaceful mere

And ice-chafed granite borne.

The rock-worn stream, in eddying whirl,

Here sinks the clear below;

While there the blue, in foam-flecked curl,

Uprises to the foe.

But Arve, the rugged Mountain's child,

Obtains the mastery;

And on the Rhone, through Jura wild,

Flows turbid to the sea.

F. J. S.

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