Poems (Barker)/To the Rapids of the St Mary
To the Rapids of the St. Mary.
Oh! laughing waves that leap and run,And toss your white arms to the sun,And chase each other one by one, Your danger I defied.Your playful gambols, like a childThat ne'er by earth has been defiled,Your words of warning, weird and wild, I scornfully denied.
I love your dancing waters well,To me there is a magic spell;Oh! rapids of St. Mary, tell— What is your power?I love to watch the light canoe,Guided your swiftest waters throughBy hands that, to their task are true, In evening hour.
I love to feel the dancing wave,And know there is a watery graveSo near that only God can save From certain death.When past the sharp and rugged rocks,Where oft the water rudely mocksAnd madly locks and inter-locks, We hold our breath.
But still the faithful Indian guideKnows well the paths, none hath descriedSave those who oft your waters ride Without a fear;And as we catch his earnest eyeFixed on the waves we dared to try,How eagerly we question why— To him 'tis clear.
Ah! yes, he knows each fatal rock,And at your waves would only mock,His boat can bear the rudest shock; His arm is strong.How merrily we dance away,And whirl and dash like tossing spray!Delighting with your waves to play, And hear their song.
But now our merry ride is o'er,We only hear the rapids roarAnd wonder as we did before At your bright dower.I love your dancing waters well,O! Rapids of St. Mary, tell— Where is your power?