Александр Лоуренс Поузи (Alexander Lawrence Posey)

Song of the Oktahutchee

FAR, far, far are my silver waters drawn;
  The hills embrace me, loth to let me go;
The maidens think me fair to look upon,
  And trees lean over, glad to hear me flow.
Thro' field and valley, green because of me,
I wander, wander to the distant sea.

Thro' lonely places and thro' crowded ways,
  Thro' noise of strife and thro' the solitude,
And on thro' cloudy days and sunny days,
  I journey till I meet, in sisterhood,
The broad Canadian, red with the sunset,
Now calm, now raging with a mighty fret!

On either hand, in a grand colonnade,
  The cottonwoods rise in the azure sky,
And purple mountains cast a purple shade
  As I, now grave, now laughing, pass them by;
The birds of air dip bright wings in my tide,
In sunny reaches where I noiseless glide.

O'er sandy reaches with rocks and mussel-shells,
  Blue over spacious beds of amber sand,
By hanging cliffs, by glens where echo dwells--
  Elusive spirit of the shadow-land--
Forever blest and blessing do I go,
A-wid'ning in the morning's roseate glow.

Tho' I sing my song in a minor key,
  Broad lands and fair attest the good I do;
Tho' I carry no white sails to the sea,
  Towns nestle in the vales I wander thro';
And quails are whistling in the waving grain,
And herds are scattered o'er the verdant plain.

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