The river rolled on without any sign of life, nor any boat to be seen except the Spray.

The river rolled on, the forest stretched away, and the mist and gray permeated everything.

Hour after hour, the river rolled along, as wearily and slowly as the time itself.

The river rolled below him and the river did not care.

To our left rolled the black river.

Night and the river rolled behind them.

The river rolled between green banks equally free of any signs of life.

The river rolled on, the sun hung there in the painted sky.

Outside the hut the river rolled by.

The river rolled on, roiled by waves and uncaring as she called out.