To The Wissahiccon.

My feet shall tread no more thy mossy side,          When once they turn away, thou Pleasant Water,     Nor ever more, reflected in thy tide,          Will shine the eyes of the White Island's daughter.     But often in my dreams, when I am gone          Beyond the sea that parts thy home and mine,          Upon thy banks the evening sun will shine,     And I shall hear thy low, still flowing on.     And when the burden of existence lies          Upon my soul, darkly and heavily,     I'll clasp my hands over my weary eyes,          Thou Pleasant Water, and thy clear waves see.     Bright be thy course for ever and for ever,          Child of pure mountain springs, and mountain snow;     And as thou wanderest on to meet the river          Oh, still in light and music mayst thou flow!     I never shall come back to thee again,     When once my sail is shadowed on the main,     Nor ever shall I hear thy laughing voice     As on their rippling way thy waves rejoice,     Nor ever see the dark green cedar throw     Its gloomy shade o'er the clear depths below,     Never, from stony rifts of granite gray     Sparkling like diamond rocks in the sun's ray,     Shall I look down on thee, thou pleasant stream,     Beneath whose crystal folds the gold sands gleam;     Wherefore, farewell! but whensoe'er again          The wintry spell melts from the earth and air;     And the young Spring comes dancing through thy glen,          With fragrant, flowery breath, and sunny hair;     When through the snow the scarlet berries gleam,     Like jewels strewn upon thy banks, fair stream,     My spirit shall through many a summer's day     Return, among thy peaceful woods to stray.