278 MY LIFE 



" And now upon the Amazon, 



The waters rush and roar — 

 The noble river that flows between 



A league from shore to shore; 

 Our little bark speeds gallantly, 



The porpoise, rising, blows, 

 The gull darts downward rapidly 



At a fish beneath our bows, 

 The far-off roar of the onga, 



The cry of the whip-poor-will — 

 All breathe to us in whispers 



That we are in Brazil. 



" By many an Indian cottage, 



By many a village green, 

 Where naked little urchins 



Are fishing in the stream, 

 With days of sunny pleasure, 



But, oh, with weary nights, 

 For here upon the Amazon 



The dread mosquito bites — 

 Inflames the blood with fever, 



And murders gentle sleep, 

 Till, weary grown and peevish, 



We've half a mind to weep ! 

 But still, although they torture, 



We know they cannot kill, — 

 All breathe to us in whispers 



That we are in Brazil. 



"And now the wave around us 



Has changed its muddy hue, 

 For we are on the Tapajoz, 



And Santarem's in view; 

 Fair Santarem, whose sandy beach 



Slopes down into the wave, 

 Where mothers wash their garments, 



And their happy children lave. 

 Now comes the welcome greeting, 



The warm embrace of friends, 

 And here, then, for a season, 



The toil of voyaging ends. 

 The silent Indian sentry, 



The mud fort on the hill, — 

 All breathe to us in whispers 



That we are in Brazil." 



