The Poetical Works of Elizabeth Margaret Chandler/Schuylkill

Schuylkill
WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM

Sun-lit and shadow'd waters, leaping by 'Midst flowers and greenness, singing as they pass, Or sleeping in some deep and shaded pool, Lake-like, and dimpled by the playful touch Of stooping branches, rocks vine-garlanded, And the green pleasant woods, and over all The wide blue glorious sky—oh it is sweet To breathe amid such scenes!

Look on the page Of Schuylkill's pictured beauty! that is such— And thou may'st gaze, till it shall waken thoughts Treasured in memory—for thou hast watch'd The flashing of its waters, and hast stood, Perchance, beside them, when the moonlight made The scene a paradise, and friends were nigh, Smiling with their glad eyes upon thy joy; And music floated off upon the air, As if the zephyrs breathed in melody. Now other scenes are round thee—it is fair— This wide extended landscape—but unlike To that the Schuylkill mirrors. The old trees That lift their tall green heads against the sky, Are relies of past ages, and there seems, Beneath their dim gray shade, to linger yet A faint and mournful echo of the tones Of the old forest tribes.

But when the hush, And the dim beauty of the twilight steals O'er the calm earth, and on thy spirit lies A shadow and a pensiveness as sweet, Then memory will lift the mystic screen That veils departed years, and give them back The consecrated past; and thou shalt stand 'Midst scenes where thou hast stood in other days; And the gay laugh, and the remember'd tone, Will seem, with startling vividness, to thrill Across thy ear—but mine will not be there; Thy memory hath no garner'd thought of me— Yet think of me, for there may gleam a light Amidst thy twilight dreams, from scenes to which I turn for my most sweet remembrances; Oh, how one charmed word will start to life A thousand breathing memories of the past! Schuylkill! sweet Schuylkill! and still dearer loved, And hallow'd with yet deeper, sweeter thoughts, My own dear native vale, and the bright flood* That makes it beautiful! name them again, For thou hast trodden there, and let me dwell With thee upon the past! Yet they will come To thee, with but a stranger's parting glance Of brief and pleasant memory—to me— With tales of childhood's years, of hours of glee, Friendships, and tears, and rainbow-pinion'd hopes, And all the sacred thoughts that halo home!

(*The Brandywine)