Classic Poem

Harken, friends, while I tell you—
I will be as brief as I may—
How, while the drums were beating,
And the great guns boomed away,
A pair of blithe young lovers
Kept Independence Day.

I was passing the bridge up yonder,
That crosses the creek, you know,
Near where it enters the river,
That flows with a mighty flow
Toward where the cataract thunders,
Only three miles below.

I heard sweet peals of laughter
Ring over the river wide,
And looked where a boat went tossing
Out toward the rapid tide,
And saw the prow was headed
Toward the American side.

I watched the boy that was rowing,
And the girl that sat in the stern,
And I saw that the two were lovers—
It took but a glance to learn—
They were taking their trip of pleasure—
Would they ever, ever return?

I saw that he rowed but badly,
And my heart sank at the sight;
It is only the skillful oarsman,
With a touch both firm and light,
That here rows across the river
And ever returns at night.

I watched the frail craft tossing,
In a tremor of dead suspense;
And I held my breath in terror
That swept over every sense,
As I saw the boat was heading
Outside of the “river fence.”

They have passed it now! In the rapids,
Where never a boat crossed o'er,
They were swinging nearer and nearer
The cataract's thundering roar.
They will never come back to the Queen's land,
Nor reach the American shore!

There are flecks of foam on the water;
There are white-caps on the tide;
And swifter, and even swifter
Down to their doom they glide.
Not thus in the joyful morning
Did the youth think to wed his bride!

I hear the girl shriek wildly,
As she points to the rocks before;
I see the boy's mad effort
To turn the boat to the shore;
Then I watch him look for something—
Great God! he had dropped an oar!

My old knees they smote together;
I could feel my cheeks grow pale,
As I heard above all the roaring,
The sound of that maiden's wail;
And I clutched as if I were drowning,
My hands to the wooden rail.

Still I gazed, in my frozen terror,
For I could not turn away;
And I saw them clinging together,
As down in the boat they lay;
And the sight my midnight pillow
Will haunt till my dying day.

I saw the boat swing over
The crests of the first descent;
It was lost to sight for a moment
Where the hollowed waters bent;
The next, on a rock, foam-covered,
It poised, then downward went.

I saw no more; but others
Standing beside the fall,
Watching the beautiful rainbow
That spans the eternal wall,
Beheld a few black fragments
Of a boat—and that was all.