Poem: Carried to the Sea

The water running from the hill, 
the rapids white like snow, 
the rocks which time again do kill
those dashed here by the flow. 

And dashed one more, here by my hand
a wicked wretch is slain,
his blood here mingles with the sand
and seeps between the grain. 

The river washes clean from sin, 
and takes my guilt from me; 
the corpse is carried off within
the rapids to the sea.