 | Knitting-work |  |
ON THE MISSISSIPPI.
Father of waters! — here upon thy breast
I lay my head in trusting confidence;
Too long a prey to terror and unrest,
I may, thank heaven, banish them from hence.
How proudly scattereth our prow aside
The turbid tides, as vainly on they sweep;
And the good steamer, with a seeming pride,
Laughs in huge billows to the conquered deep!
But stealing o'er me like a misty cloud
Come dreams of sawyers and perfidious snags,
And many scenes upon my memory crowd,
At thought of which my resolution flags, —
And, as fears trench on confidence and trust,
I quake to think, what if the biler bust;
I lay my head in trusting confidence;
Too long a prey to terror and unrest,
I may, thank heaven, banish them from hence.
How proudly scattereth our prow aside
The turbid tides, as vainly on they sweep;
And the good steamer, with a seeming pride,
Laughs in huge billows to the conquered deep!
But stealing o'er me like a misty cloud
Come dreams of sawyers and perfidious snags,
And many scenes upon my memory crowd,
At thought of which my resolution flags, —
And, as fears trench on confidence and trust,
I quake to think, what if the biler bust;
| Knitting-work | |