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| AN OLD, familiar friend! I saw the flow | |
| Of wayward Wabash to Ohio’s flood, | |
| Long leagues away from where I learned to know | |
| And love the stream; and on its banks I stood | |
| As friend meets friend in some familiar wood, | 5 |
| Its ripples, wrought to flecks of ashy foam; | |
| Its bright, clay-tinted waves; its finny brood; | |
| And even the shells half-buried in the loam,— | |
| All came to me like welcome messages from home. | |
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| Here meet and mingle genially in one | 10 |
| The Wabash with Ohio’s silver wave. | |
| The Beautiful River! How its waters run, | |
| Inspiring joy and plenty as they lave | |
| The smiling land they irrigate to save. | |
| The Beautiful River!—gentle, clear, and bright,— | 15 |
| Beloved now as when the ancient brave | |
| Propelled his swift canoe athwart the light, | |
| Where gorgeous palace boats now break upon the sight. | |
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| Green islands gem the bosom of the stream; | |
| Their sandy slopes beneath the waters dip; | 20 |
| And on the wooded banks the sunbeams gleam, | |
| Reflected in the dew-drops as they drip | |
| From oaks and elms, and clinging vines that grip | |
| The leafy boughs with loving tendrils strong; | |
| The trumpet-flowers smile with ruddy lip; | 25 |
| The mistletoe extends the boughs along, | |
| And wooes the graceful jay-bird’s hoarse but cheerful song. | |
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