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| DEEP thoughts o’ershade my spirit while I gaze | |
| Upon the blue depths of thy mighty breast; | |
| Thy glassy face is bright with sunset rays, | |
| And thy far-stretching waters are at rest, | |
| Save the small wave that on thy margin plays, | 5 |
| Lifting to summer airs its flashing crest: | |
| While the fleet hues across thy surface driven, | |
| Mingle afar in the embrace of heaven. | |
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| Thy smile is glorious when the morning’s spring | |
| Gives half its glowing beauty to the deep; | 10 |
| When the dusk swallow dips his drooping wing, | |
| And the gay winds that o’er thy bosom sweep | |
| Tribute from dewy woods and violets bring, | |
| Thy restless billows in their gifts to steep. | |
| Thou ’rt beautiful when evening moonbeams shine, | 15 |
| And the soft hour of night and stars is thine. | |
| |
| Thou hast thy tempests, too; the lightning’s home | |
| Is near thee, though unseen; thy peaceful shore, | |
| When storms have lashed these waters into foam, | |
| Echoes full oft the pealing thunder’s roar. | 20 |
| Thou hast dark trophies: the unhonored tomb | |
| Of those now sought and wept on earth no more: | |
| Full many a goodly form, the loved and brave, | |
| Lies whelmed and still beneath thy sullen wave. | |
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| The world was young with thee: this swelling flood | 25 |
| As proudly swelled, as purely met the sky, | |
| When sound of life roused not the ancient wood, | |
| Save the wild eagle’s scream, or panther’s cry. | |
| Here on this verdant bank the savage stood, | |
| And shook his dart and battle-axe on high, | 30 |
| While hues of slaughter tinged thy billows blue, | |
| As deeper and more close the conflict grew. | |
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| Here, too, at early morn, the hunter’s song | |
| Was heard from wooded isle and grassy glade; | |
| And here, at eve, these clustered bowers among, | 35 |
| The low, sweet carol of the Indian maid, | |
| Chiding the slumbering breeze and shadows long, | |
| That kept her lingering lover from the shade, | |
| While, scarcely seen, thy willing waters o’er, | |
| Sped the light bark that bore him to the shore. | 40 |
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| Those scenes are past. The spirit of changing years | |
| Has breathed on all around, save thee alone. | |
| More faintly the receding woodland hears | |
| Thy voice, once full and joyless as its own. | |
| Nations have gone from earth, nor trace appears | 45 |
| To tell their tale,—forgotten or unknown. | |
| Yet here, unchanged, untamed, thy waters lie, | |
| Azure, and clear, and boundless as the sky. | |
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