That cleft the murky waters through,
That climb'd the swift Missouri's waves,—
The surly, woolly-headed slaves.
A grand old Neptune in the prow,
Gray-hair'd, and white with touch of time,
Yet strong as in his middle prime;
A grizzled king, I see him now,
With beard as blown by wind of seas,
And wild and white as white sea-storm,
Stand up, turn suddenly, look back