PAUPACK
Whither waters, gently flowing
In thy rocky channel-race,
Yet anon more noisy growing
O’er the stones which stay thy pace—
Gentle waters, whither going?
Laughing louder as they hurried,
Making music as they ran,
Deeper still the rock they furrowed
And a stolen run began
Half in cliffs and chasms buried.
Through the narrows flung they churning,
Leaped they in a mad cascade
And a bedded boulder spurning
They a misty iris made,
Spray to fitful spectrum turning.
Wildling waters thus romancing
Through the gorge in joy’s career,
Wooded witchery enhancing,
Paupack picturesque and dear,
Haste thee onward ever dancing!
Let thy pilgrimage and laughter
Quicken an Algonquin vein
Till the lure I follow after
Flushes every sense again
Like the freshet of the water;
Till, O Paupack, each erosion
Of my nature is at flood
With a primitive emotion,
With an impulse of the blood,
Singing on towards the ocean!