In the dark under glooms,
And cool, cool ran the prairie river!
“Ho! Ho!” cried the Plumes of the Northern Lakes proud,
To the braves on the Rock whose red warfare was done.
“Ho! Ho! we came down in the billows of cloud,
But our feet will go back in the paths of the sun.”
One by one sunk the braves on the high Rock to die;
One by one did the gray wolves of fever destroy;
And the Northern winds blew, and the waves rippled by,
And the rain-plover sang on the blue Illinois!