By Mary Ann Cabanting
Rivers flow and rivers wide
Up against the rising tide
Raging far amidst the rocks
Whirling through behind the mocks,
Of dusty winds long that reigned;
Quivering through where it rained,
But rivers flow, far it rides
Holding none to where it hides
Rivers rise may soon be hold
Far it rides and maybe cold,
Rivers flow soon may go slow
Fading low and weak to flow
Rushing through yet seems to hide
The moon can lose all the tide
Of falsely faith soon to fall,
Against the wind that breaks wall.
But rivers flow, far it rides
Soaring high against all sides
Rivers flow and rivers wide
Up against the rising tide.
Up against the rising tide
Raging far amidst the rocks
Whirling through behind the mocks,
Of dusty winds long that reigned;
Quivering through where it rained,
But rivers flow, far it rides
Holding none to where it hides
Rivers rise may soon be hold
Far it rides and maybe cold,
Rivers flow soon may go slow
Fading low and weak to flow
Rushing through yet seems to hide
The moon can lose all the tide
Of falsely faith soon to fall,
Against the wind that breaks wall.
But rivers flow, far it rides
Soaring high against all sides
Rivers flow and rivers wide
Up against the rising tide.
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