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[Connecticut, the stream that flows ]
Written in a skiff, on Connecticut river, at the “Narrows,” a short distance above Turner's Falls
Connecticut, the stream that flows
Beneath my feet!
What country owns, what mortal knows
A stream so sweet!
Beneath my feet!
What country owns, what mortal knows
A stream so sweet!
Forever varying is thy shore—
The hill, the plain;
Here sleeps thy wave, there torrents roar
And dash amain.
The hill, the plain;
Here sleeps thy wave, there torrents roar
And dash amain.
Here winds the flood around a cliff
Whose rocky brow,
Frowning upon my dancing skiff,
Inspires me now.
Whose rocky brow,
Frowning upon my dancing skiff,
Inspires me now.
140
Here was the Indian wont to take
The sly raccoon,
And came to see the otter wake
Beneath the moon.
The sly raccoon,
And came to see the otter wake
Beneath the moon.
Otters, perhaps, here linger still;
But the red-man,
Search for him wheresoe'er you will,
Find him who can!
But the red-man,
Search for him wheresoe'er you will,
Find him who can!
Thou stream forever hurrying fast,
Untiringly!
I turn to ask of thee the past,
Inquiringly.
Untiringly!
I turn to ask of thee the past,
Inquiringly.
What tragic scenes have stained your shores
All bloodily,
From where wild Ammonoosuc roars,
To the salt sea!
All bloodily,
From where wild Ammonoosuc roars,
To the salt sea!
What tears have mingled with thy flood—
Of deepest wo!
What gory streams of reeking blood
Have tinged thy flow!
Of deepest wo!
What gory streams of reeking blood
Have tinged thy flow!
Hast thou not chronicled them all,
To our remorse?
Methinks I hear from yonder fall
The answer hoarse.
To our remorse?
Methinks I hear from yonder fall
The answer hoarse.
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