Эпес Сарджент (Epes Sargent)

The Light Canoe

Beside Missouri's swelling waves
An Indian maiden knelt,
And gazed across the shadowed stream,
And through the forest's belt;
And while the leaves about her fell,
And birds all nestward flew,
"Oh, that I might but see," she cried,
"My lover's light canoe!"

The lurid air, the brassy sky,
Await the throbbing gale;
And o'er the pathway of the sun
The loosened vapors sail;
And, spreading east and west, they smirch
Each speck of heavenly blue;
But still the lonely watcher sighs,
"Where is his light canoe?"

A black duck lighted on a wave,
And pecked its oily breast;
"I see," the Indian maiden said,
"My lover's eagle crest!"
But soon the bird its cradle spurned,
And cloudward swiftly flew;
"Ah no! 't is not my lover's crest,
'T is not his light canoe."

A fish leaped from the river's brim;
"I see his paddle dart!"
It sank into the waves again,
And like it sank her heart.
"Ah, woe is me! the storm comes down,
I hear its rushing sugh,
Great Spirit! bring, oh bring him back,
Safe in his light canoe!"

She heeded not the arrowy rain,
The swelling flood, the blast;
She gazed across the smoking tide,
Until the storm had past:
The purple clouds coiled o'er the west,
The red sun shimmered through;
It flushed the wave, but did not show
The Indian's light canoe.

Ah, Indian maiden! watch no more
Beside Missouri's stream;
In vain thou strain'st thine eyes to see
Thy lover's paddle gleam!
The white men's guns have laid him low!
Long, long did they pursue;
And now the intrepid warrior lies
Stiff in his light canoe!