THE MISSISSIPPI.
Down the silent Mississippi, with his saintly soul aflame,
Twice a hundred years are numbered since Marquette, rejoicing, came.
All the winter in his cabin high among the Huron snows,
Gaining lore of forest hunters, tracing maps by firelight glows,
Offering to the Blessed Virgin morn and evening vow and prayer
That his eyes might view the River flowing southward broad and fair,—
Wondrous grace! upon its bosom, glad beneath the summer blue,
Rapt in visions, lost in praises, lo! he guides his light canoe!
Twice a hundred years are numbered since Marquette, rejoicing, came.
All the winter in his cabin high among the Huron snows,
Gaining lore of forest hunters, tracing maps by firelight glows,
Offering to the Blessed Virgin morn and evening vow and prayer
That his eyes might view the River flowing southward broad and fair,—
Wondrous grace! upon its bosom, glad beneath the summer blue,
Rapt in visions, lost in praises, lo! he guides his light canoe!
Winding 'mid the wooded islands tangled deep with musky vines;
Flower-enchanted, past the prairies with their dim horizon lines;
By the fierce Missouri water, dark in gorge and cataract wiles,
Flower-enchanted, past the prairies with their dim horizon lines;
By the fierce Missouri water, dark in gorge and cataract wiles,
