THE AMERICAN RIVER. 



It rusheth on with fearful might, 



That river of the west, 

 Through forests dense, where seldom light 



Of sunbeam gilds its breast ; 

 Anon it dashes wildly past 

 The wide-spread prairie lone and vast, 

 Without a shadow on its tide 

 Save where the long grass skirts its side ; 

 Again its angry currents sweep 

 Beneath the tall and rocky steep 

 Which frowns above the darkened stream. 

 While doubly deep its waters seem. 

 No rugged cliff may check its way, 

 No gentle mead invite its stay, 

 Still with resistless, maddened force, 

 Following its wild and devious course 



The river rusheth on. 



It rusheth on, — the rocks are stirred, 



And echoing far and wide 

 Through the dim forest aisles is heard 



The thunder of its tide ; 



