 | The genius of oblivion ; and Other Original Poems |  |
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ADDRESS TO SUGAR RIVER.
I.
Let Avon roll with Shakspeare's deathless glory,And Thames as smooth as Pope or Thomson glide,
The Tiber, Hellespont, in ancient story
Reflect Mars' triumphs, or fair Venus' pride;
While Scotia's every stream can boast its poet,
Whose Patriotic muse would make us know it,
II.
Yet what to me are all these puffs and praises,Or streams of fame in foreign lands that lie;
But my soft-gliding, native river raises
A thousand images of home felt joy;
And though their names in lofty lays may shine,
In sweetness they can never equal thine.
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III.
Oh, may my verse, thy strength and beauty stealing,Flow like thy waters, and thy fame extend!
Thou minglest with the tide of life's young feeling—
With thee my earliest recollections blend;
Thy bank my bower, nor Eden's loss was ponder'd,
Whilst there in infant innocence I wandered.
IV.
When strengthened reason 'woke imagination,My book, my Crœsus wealth, oft borne to thee,
In some lov'd nook was sought a fav'rite station,
The spreading hazle formed a canopy,
The red-breast, sweetest bird that charms our spring,
Joined his wild warble to thy murmuring.
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V.
Oft from the page mine eye, with rapture glancing,Watched the light-springing trout at sportive play,
Or the bright sunbeams o'er thy dimples dancing,
Or the blue sky that in thy bosom lay—
Here, the broad boughs athwart the dark stream waving,
And there, the wild duck's brood their plumage laving.
VI.
Nor must be past, while thousand thoughts endear 'em,Thy falls, my school-day path so often cross'd,
The wonder-hunting traveller would sneer 'em;
Beside Niag'ra's, these, be sure, were lost.
Oh! might I see that Anakim of wonders,
And watch its rain-bow'd spray, and hear its thunders.
VII.
But then I deemed not there could be a vasterWhen anchor-ice (we called it so) had made
Thy pent up waters rage and roar, while faster
Whirl'd the white sheeted foam; though half afraid,
Yet many a time I've paus'd to gaze and listen,
Till on my breath congealed the frost would glisten.
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VIII.
Those days are gone, and with them gone foreverAre many a lov'd companion, friend most dear;
As float the autumn leaves along yon river,
One moment seen, then eddying disappear—
So sink the race of men—thou, in thy prime,
Still roll'st unmark'd, unmanacled by time.
IX.
But farewell now sweet stream, in after ages,When o'er the world Columbia sits a queen;
Sung by her poets, honored by her sages,
(An Athens without anarchy,) then seen
And heard too, shall some bard, though nurs'd on mountains
Strike the loud harp that wakes thy triple fountains.
July, 1822.
| The genius of oblivion ; and Other Original Poems | |