Fill to the brim! fill, fill to the brim; Let the flowing crystal kiss the rim! For my hand is steady, my eye is true, For I, like the flowers, drink nothing but dew. O, water, bright water's a mine of wealth, And the ores which it yieldeth are vigor and health. So water, pure water, for one, for me! And wine for the tremulous debauchee. Fill again to the brim, again to the brim! For water strengtheneth life and limb! To the days of the aged it addeth length, To the might of the strong it addeth strength; It freshens the heart, it brightens the sight, 'T is like quaffing a goblet of morning light! So, water, I will drink nothing but thee, Thou parent of health and energy! When over the hills, like a gladsome bride, Morning walks forth in her beauty's pride, And, leading a band of laughing hours, Brushes the dew from the nodding flowers, O! cheerily then my voice is heard Mingling with that of the soaring bird, Who flingeth abroad his matin loud As he freshens his wing in the cold, gray cloud. But when evening has quitted her sheltering yew, Drowsily flying, and weaving anew Her dusky meshes o'er land and sea, How gently, O sleep, fall thy poppies on me! For I drink water, pure, cold, and bright, And my dreams are of heaven the livelong night. So hurrah for thee, water! hurrah! hurrah! Thou art silver and gold, thou art ribbon and star, Hurrah for bright water! hurrah! hurrah! E. Johnson. CXCVII. CHAMOUNI. Hast thou a charm to stay the morning star In his steep course? So long he seems to pause On thy bald, awful head, O sovereign Blanc! The Arve and Arveiron at thy base Rave ceaselessly; but thou, most awful form! Riseth from forth thy silent sea of pines, How silently! Around thee and above, Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black, An ebon mass: methinks thou piercest it, As will a wedge. But, when I look again, It is thine own calm home thy crystal shrine, Thy habitation from eternity!