Classic Poem

It was a beautiful morning in early June, and nature was dressed in
her beautiful robes of pale green, as the leaves had not yet assumed
that deeper hue that the mature rays of a summer sun impart to them.
No cloud floated over the blue vault of heaven. The golden sun
diffused a radiant light, and shed a sparkling lustre upon the deep,
black water of the mighty river, that rolled on in gentle undulating
waves, as it was tossed lightly by the sighing breeze that floated
over its surface.

Far as the eye could scan were seen the snowy sails, as the mariners
pursued their way over the black bosom of the waters to enter the
briny Atlantic, that received the waters of the rolling river and
mingled them with its own foaming wave. The smaller sail boats were
flying before the wind, while innumerable ships lay at rest in the
harbor, with snowy sails unfurled, while the rough cry of the sailors
broke boisterously upon the morning air.

At the wharf, before the flourishing village that lay reposing on the
banks of the river, lay a ferry-boat, impatient to launch away upon
the restless waters.

There was hurry and bustle as the time for the boat's departure had
arrive, and many wished to be borne to the opposite shore.

Among the rest came a gay group of laughing school girls. Their joyous
faces were lit up with bright smiles, and they were chatting gaily of
the afternoon's party, and the anticipated evening's walk, heedless
of the care worn man of business that shuffled in by their side, or
prudent ladies who looked upon the gay party as pert or presuming.
They were, many of them, the children of wealth, and waved in their
hands rich boquets of beautiful and rare exotics, while others were
equally satisfied with more simple flowers. They advanced to the head
of the boat, and stood with their hands placed upon its edge, looking
over into the deep waters. One beautiful form attracted the attention
of all who looked upon her. Her form was slight and delicate. Her
complexion was transparent, but a slight tinge of pink rested upon
her cheek. Her azure eyes beamed with a sweet expression from their
soul-lit depths, while her dark brown hair floated in heavy masses of
glossy curls over her ivory neck and shoulders, waving gently in the
morning breeze, as it floated lightly around her. She was dressed in a
simple white robe, and in her hand held the richest boquet. Her snowy
arms were bare almost to the shoulder, and as she stood looking
out upon the far off sail, or watching the entrance of her fellow
passengers, as they took their respective places in the boat; no eye
that looked upon her but lingered in its gaze to admire her beauty.

Then came a rich man and his lady, and there must be room in the boat
for their splendid equipage, and so his gay horse stood champing his
bitts and curbing his proud head, as his fiery eyes glanced over the
glassy surface of the restless waters.

All was ready, the signal was given, and the boat ploughed her way
like a thing of life, leaving a long path of white foam in her wake.

Men talked of business, of the prospect of the advancing season, the
pressure in the money market, or the perfidy of the opposing political
party.

Women talked about their cross children, unfaithful servants, and
various domestic trials.

The young girls talked of their school, their boquets, and the many
little events in which they were interested, while a group of school
boys, who had entered last, and were obliged to stand in the rear of
the boat, declared they had never seen the fair queen of that party
looking so lovely.

But suddenly there was a jar, a scream, a plunge, and that fairy form
was precipitated into the foaming waters beneath, and the boat was
gliding on with such rapidity that no arm could reach her. She sank
slowly from sight, as her spreading robe buoyed her up for a moment on
the waves. Her long curls lay spread out, tossing upon the surface
by the motion of the waves, then as they sank slowly from sight,
one snowy hand was raised, clutching the boquet with a tenacity so
proverbial to the drowning. She then sank to sleep beneath the surging
waves that danced lightly on over her death cold bosom.

None could tell exactly how the accident happened. The horse, unused
to that mode of conveyance, became restive, and in his plungings to
liberate himself precipitated the unfortunate girl, with all her gay
dreams of life and pleasure, into a watery grave.

The tide was going out, and she fell into the rapid current, and when
her body was recovered no traces of beauty rested upon her marble
features, and none who looked upon the black, bloated face and lips
of the poor girl could recognize the bright beauty of that joyous
morning. The withered boquet was covered with green slime, and like
the hand that held it, bore no resemblance to its former self. "Surely
in the midst of life we are in death."