KNOW you the river near to Grez,

A river deep and clear?

Among the lilies all the way,

That ancient river runs today

From snowy weir¹ to weir.

Old as the Rhine of great renown²,

She hurries clear and fast,

She runs amain by field and town

From south to north, from up to down,

To present on from past.

The love I hold was borne by her;

And now, though far away,

My lonely spirit hears the stir

Of water round the starling spur

Beside the bridge at Grez.

So may that love forever hold

In life an equal pace;

So may that love grow never old,

But, clear and pure and fountain-cold,

Go on from grace to grace.

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