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Show AN ODE TO THE WILLAMETTE. (Written by Sam L. Simpson and Reprinted Re-printed by Request.) From the Cascade's frozen gorges. Leaning like a child at play. Winding, widening through the valley. Bright Willamette glides away; Onward ever, Lovely river. Softly calling to the sea; Time that scars us. Maims and mars us. Leaves no track or trench on thee. I Spring's srreen witchery is weaving Braid and border for thy side; Grace forever haunts thy journey. Beauty dimples on thy tide. Through the purple gates of morning. Now thy roseate ripples dance: Golden, then, when day. departing, On thy waters trails his lance, Waltzing, flashing. Tinkiing, plashing, Limpid, volatile and free-Always free-Always hurried To be buried In the bitter, moon-mad sea. In thy crystal deeps inverted, Swiners a picture of the sky. Like those wavering hopes of Aidenn Dimly in our dreams that lie; Clouded often, drowned in turmoil, Faint and lovely, far away Wreathing sunshine on the morrow, Breathing fragrance round today, Love would wander Here and ponder Hither poetry would dream; Life's old questions. Sad suggestions, "Whence and whither?" through thy stream. On the roaring wastes of ocean Soon thy scattered waves shall toss; 'Mid the surges' rhythmic thunder Shall thy silver tongue be lost. Oh! thy glimmering rush of gladness Mocks this turbid life of mine. Racing to the wild Forever. Down the sloping paths of time; Onward ever. Lovely river. Softly calling to the sea; Time that. scars us. Maims and mars us, Leaves no track or trench on thee. |