1894.]
Columbia River.
115
The angel Peace has spread her wings
And made her dwelling here.
II.
But when December sweeps her breath,
And in these winter days,
When Nature stands all bare and shows
Dead foliage through the haze,
'Tis then the noble river wakes,
The god of storms to greet,
And rushing downward, boils below
The dull lead clouds and sleet.
Her angry, yellow-crested flood
That roars two States between,
High-foamed and vengeance-breathing comes,
A noble water queen;
And blinding spray, and hiss, and roar,
And storm-tossed hills of water,
Proclaim her lineage to all,
Old Ocean's royal daughter.
She meets her father at her gates
With grim and fierce delight,
His green, salt kiss her forehead greets,
The wild gulls shriek in fright;
