Soon from these a great stream grows;
Grows—and grows more strong and free,
Till a noble river flows;
Flows majestic to the sea.
Born of Adirondac tears,
Nursed by storms of Katterskill,
Yet a smiling face it wears,
Rolls in tranquil silence still.
Gliding first o'er sands of glass,
Then 'midst grassy meads estray,