The Boulders of the Susquehanna
SUBMERGED BY THE GREAT POWER DAM AUGUST , 1911
Where are those guardians of the rushing stream, —
The river-sculptured rocks of yesterday?
That herd of Lions, couchant for their prey,
Roaring above the freshets, made it seem
As if the waters lived! ... Men's disesteem
And Mammon-greed have sunk them deep away
Beneath a wide monotony of gray, —
Lost to the world as some drowned poet's dream!
Oh, Thou, retard our fate! Give yet the thrills,
The torrent-shock, the impact, and the swirl
Of rushing life, and glimpse of beckoning hills!
Sink us not yet! lovers of sky and sun,
We graying men, who crave awhile the whirl
And rapture of the rapids as they run!
Where are those guardians of the rushing stream, —
The river-sculptured rocks of yesterday?
That herd of Lions, couchant for their prey,
Roaring above the freshets, made it seem
As if the waters lived! ... Men's disesteem
And Mammon-greed have sunk them deep away
Beneath a wide monotony of gray, —
Lost to the world as some drowned poet's dream!
Oh, Thou, retard our fate! Give yet the thrills,
The torrent-shock, the impact, and the swirl
Of rushing life, and glimpse of beckoning hills!
Sink us not yet! lovers of sky and sun,
We graying men, who crave awhile the whirl
And rapture of the rapids as they run!
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