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!