1808
ODE TO CONNECTICUT RIVER
by William Cullen Bryant
Electronically Enhanced Text (c) Copyright 1996, World Library(R)
ODE TO CONNECTICUT RIVER
[WRITTEN IN 1808]
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Why should I blush. to sing the rural lay,
Where fair CONNECTA winds its gentle way?
While smiling Spring, on southern breezes borne,
With snowy pinions scents the breath of morn;
And throws her dewy wreaths, with laughing glee,
O'er the green mead and germinating tree!
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Could I thy charms, celebrious stream, rehearse,
In glowing numbers and exalted verse;
Me, did the Muse of poesy inspire,
With Maro's strains, or Pope's celestial fire;
Like the rough Tiber, or the gentler Thame,
Should classic honours flourish round thy name.
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On thy green banks, let flowers perennial bloom,
And forests shade thee with a grateful gloom;
Bright towns ascending, flourish on thy shore,
And cultur'd gardens spread their balmy store!
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When all is hush'd, and buoyant breezes sleep,
I view the mirror of thy level deep;
The sun reflected from thy bosom shine,
With piercing beams, and splendours all divine;
There glittering clouds, and glowing skies are seen,
The towering forest, and the humble green.
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Oft, when soft breezes agitate thy tide,
I mark thy waves in quick succession ride;
While the small fry, disporting rise to sight,
Their nimble fins with crimson edges bright;
And from her perch the frighted heron springs,
Soaring aloft with azure tinted wings!
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Here, foaming o'er the rugged rocks, he roars,
Through dreary chasms, along unfertile shores;
There, where yon gay parterre adorns his side,
He rolls a gentle and majestic tide!
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Spread widely round, what beauties crowd the scene,
High waving woods, and meadows broad and green;
Tall spire-crown'd churches glitter to the day,
And clust'ring domes their humbler heads display;
In blue perspective, distant mountains rise,
And Tempe's charms renew'd, attract th' admiring eyes!
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Long may thy sons in useful arts renown'd,
With waving cornfields hide the furrow'd ground;
Hung thick with fruitage bid the orchard bend,
And from the vine the clustering grape depend;
Plant the young wood, the flowery garden spread,
And give the dome to lift its ample head.
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Long may thy Merchants borne on canvass wing,
From various climates, wealth, and wisdom bring;
Exotic wealth, that earth or ocean yields,
The icy north, or India's purple fields!
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Oh, ne'er may war, with gloomy front appear,
Nor hostile armies prowl for plunder here!
May heaven-born peace, amid the sylvan dell,
Erect her throne, and long delight to dwell;
Led by her hand, may smiling plenty pour,
The copious bounties of her flower-crown'd store!
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THE END
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