THE WINNETUXET.
I’ve rowed the Juniata,
I’ve trailed the Kennebec,
I’ve drifted down Algerian shores
Stretched on the upper deck.
I’ve seen the Golden Gate swing wide
To let the sunset through
On wings of flowing opal,
With tangerine and blue.
I’ve idled down the Congo
And dallied up the tide
That girdles the Bahamas,
I’ve floated down the Clyde,
But let me hear the music,
And smell the briar rose,
Of summer’s listless noontide where
The Winnetuxet flows.
Singlehurst,
Plympton, Mass.