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!