Postcard from Hearst Castle

Presenting today, a poem by William Randolph Hearst (1863-1951). Today’s photo is of the Neptune Pool at Hearst Castle. FYI, the columns on the left are from ancient Rome.

The Song of the River

The snow melts on the mountain

And the water runs down to the spring,

And the spring in a turbulent fountain,

With a song of youth to sing,

Runs down to the riotous river,

And the river flows to the sea,

And the water again

Goes back in rain

To the hills where it used to be.

And I wonder if life’s deep mystery

Isn’t much like the rain and the snow

Returning through all eternity

To the places it used to know.

For life was born on the lofty heights

And flows in a laughing stream,

To the river below

Whose onward flow

Ends in a peaceful dream.

And so at last,

When our life has passed

And the river has run its course,

It again goes back,

O’er the selfsame track,

To the mountain which was its source.

So why prize life

Or why fear death,

Or dread what is to be?

The river ran

Its allotted span

Till it reached the silent sea.

Then the water harked back

To the mountain-top

To begin its course once more.

So we shall run

The course begun

Till we reach the silent shore.

Then revisit earth

In a pure rebirth

From the heart of the virgin snow.

So don’t ask why

We live or die,

Or whither, or when we go,

Or wonder about the mysteries

That only God may know.

William Randolph Hearst - 1941