O beautiful river, I have longed for the hour,
My muse would awaken and give me the power,
To ring out the key note and tune my sweet lyre,
To sing of thy glory with spirit and fire.
Oft charmed by thy beauty, and amazed at thy size,
I’ve gazed on thy grandeur with keen wondering eyes,
Watched thy clear blue waters as they slowly pass by,
Reflecting true pictures of the clouds in the sky.
So deep is thy bottom and so broad is thy stream,
Thy volume is greater than thy looks make it seem,
Tho slow is thy current, great force there is in it,
Moving a million tons of water each minute.
Many are the sources that provide the supply,
That keeps this great river from ever running dry,
The inflow and outflow do so nearly conform,
That the river’s level is very uniform.
Far away in the north, in the land of the moose,
In the cool summer home of the fleety wild goose,
Where the valleys are deep and the mountain tops are white,
And the snow rarely melts above a certain height.
Where springs burst from the hills and trickle down their sides,
And enlarge into brooks that go to swell the tides,
And joining rivulets from the dissolving snow,
Are gathered into lakes in the basins below.
Where the small lakes are brown like the rocks on their shores,
And tho they are numbered by near an hundred scores,
And pour their dark waters into large lakes of blue,
The larger lakes remain unto their color true.
Where the lazy brown bear sleeps the warm winter thru,
And beavers build houses and live in comfort, too,
And the lone loon’s shrill cry sounds far off, yet is near,
And the wolf lies in wait for the innocent deer.
Where summer nights are short and winter nights are long,
And the tumbling waters keep up an endless song,
Where the forests are thick and in their native state,
But for the woodman’s ax will not have long to wait.
Where many hills contain copper, silver and gold,
And iron mines hold wealth in vast millions untold,
Where precious stones are found of great beauty and worth,
And nickel and sandstone add value to the earth.
Where lumbermen find wealth in the forests of pine,
And other valued trees within the drainage line,
The red birch, yellow birch, white birch, hemlock and spruce,
And the numerous trees man converts to his use.
Where millions of acres of farming lands are drained,
And many bright children are in school being trained,
And thousands of people are toiling for their bread,
And rarely go hungry, thank God it can be said.
And hundreds of rivers in the north, south and west,
Are working night and day, and striving at their best,
To empty their contents just so quick as they can,
Into lakes Superior, Huron and Michigan.
But vast is the country they are called on to drain,
So heavy the snowfall, so frequent the rain,
Tho these rivers work hard and have no day to spare,
They can only supply the great river St. Clair.
Lake Huron takes the flow from long Lake Michigan,
And Lake Superior since the work first began,
And tho these great bodies all empty into one,
That one’s capacity is never overdone.
The river pours its waters into Lake St. Clair,
And the waters pass thru Detroit River fair,
And thence thru Lake Erie to Niagara Falls,
Where it drops in a chasm between two rocky walls.
Thence to Ontario, the last lake in the chain,
And reaching this level it ne’er comes back again.
Now the great St. Lawrence carries it to the sea,
And there its journey ends is plain to you and me.
Where this water comes from, my story now has told,
And whither it all goes, it does likewise unfold;
There is one more question I’ll answer with delight,
And it gives me pleasure to know I answer right.
The God who made the earth revolve around the sun,
And who made the seasons their yearly courses run,
The God who made the rain and also made the snow,
Made this mighty river so it always will flow.
And now I find my song is only half complete,
As praising my subject affords me pleasure sweet,
So on its great beauty I must a moment dwell,
Or else my song will end ere I have sung it well.
How pretty thy waters when the south wind is high,
And white caps are breaking as the billows roll by,
And sailing vessels plow into the heavy seas,
As they scoot by swiftly before the driving breeze.
And small boats are flying on the top of the waves,
And the spray they dash high is ducking sailor braves,
And all things are lively in tune with the water,
And the ten mile steamer seems a twenty knotter.
When ruffled thy waters, to ride them is thrilling,
And quickens man’s spirits when the heart is willing,
The rich ozone one breathes brings a glow to the cheek,
Giving vim to the strong and vigor to the weak.
When placid thy bosom what a change then is there,
Not a ripple stirring, not a zephyr of air,
Then great is thy beauty, magnificent river,
Reminding man of God, the generous Giver.
Shining sometimes like glass, so transparent and clean,
At other times wearing a light tinge of dark green,
Tho the sun and the clouds give thy color a hue,
Thy color unfading is the pretty sky blue.
So pretty, so charming, and so apt to beguile,
The lover of nature is soon wooed by thy smile,
Enchanted by the view of the beautiful stream,
Man soliloquizes until lost in a dream.
Thy bright pretty waters are embellished by banks,
And rare must be the shores that their splendor outranks,
Sloping banks of beauty and sandy beaches low,
With steep bluffs and headlands, and points that sailors know.
Here the elm tree is grand in beauty and in size,
And the pretty maple grows in plenty likewise,
The oak and hickory are native to the land,
And help by their presence to make the forest grand.
Here the silver aspen turns white to ev’ry breeze,
And the laughing poplar babbles for all the trees,
The walnut and cherry, the butternut and plum,
The thorn and mulberry, yield fruit for all who come.
Fine orchards of apples, and other kinds of fruit,
The sweet and the bitter, differing tastes to suit,
Fields of wheat, oats and corn, and large meadows of grass,
Are admired by watchful travellers as they pass.
Lovely flowers and vines, and lawns of downy green,
Add their attractiveness to beautify the scene,
Hundreds of pleasant homes adorn the pretty shores,
And many grand hotels hold summer guests in scores.
The river’s eight islands are turned to pleasure’s use,
And if it is not found, no man need make excuse.
Here is hunting, fishing, and games that all can play,
And people joyfully can pass the time away.
Indians hold a part of the land on one side,
But now they are peaceful, having cast war aside,
Many sorts of people form the population,
And by their enterprise help to make the nation.
Mineral waters cure the rheumatic and lame,
Restore health to people and give the river fame;
Thus good health and pleasure come from river and bank,
And give the location a standing high in rank.
On either side the river a railroad runs along,
Thus accommodating the gay and happy throng,
Who gather for pleasure and spend a little wealth,
In hearty enjoyment and in renewing health.
How beautiful to see steamers passing at night,
When brilliantly lighted by the electric light,
Showing on the waters their pictures as they pass,
As lively and pretty as in a looking glass.
Travellers who have seen the Rhone and pretty Rhine,
And rode on the waters of the blue Danube fine,
Have seen the famous Nile and the great Amazon,
Say the St. Clair excels in beauty ev’ry one.
’Tis not alone beauty that gives this river fame,
Its great utility adds glory to its name;
When constructing the earth wise Nature took a halt,
And under this river made a vast sea of salt.
In many factories this salt is now refined,
And no where in the world is found a better kind;
The farmers raise fine crops for man and beast to eat,
And large refineries make sugar from the beet.
Large mills manufacture flour, staves, hoops and lumber,
And other industries exist in large number,
The plodding explorer finds reward for his toil,
As the land on the shores bears sulphur, gas and oil.
In the towns there are built fine ships of wood and steel,
By workmen as handy as ever laid a keel,
And these ships are handled by men as smart and brave,
As ever left a port, or rode upon the wave.
No bridge was ever built over this mighty stream,
But beneath a tunnel so strange as it may seem,
And cars by the hundreds pass thru it ev’ry day,
Bearing a large commerce upon its destined way.
Far greater the traffic that daily passes thru,
In the thousands of ships that sail thy waters blue,
Sailing ships and steamships, and boats of ev’ry form,
Fit to sail a river, or face an ocean storm.
How wonderful the change since five score years ago,
From the Indian canoe that was so small and slow,
To the mammoth steel ships of immense size and weight,
Large enough to carry eight thousand tons of freight.
Numerous are the styles, between these two extremes,
And various in size with which the river teems,
There are skiffs and light sculls, that carry only one,
And row boats, and yawl boats, with room for half a ton.
Sailing yachts for pleasure, quite safe when handled right,
Glide across the water and furnish great delight,
Fast electric launches and naptha boats are seen,
And beautiful steam yachts, nice enough for a queen.
Schooners, scows, sloops and brigs, navigate up and down,
And are a pleasing sight when sailing by a town;
While passenger steamers of great beauty and speed,
Carry many thousands and furnish what they need.
But greater the freight ships, full five hundred feet long,
With thirty feet of hold and in proportion strong,
And large are the cargoes these great ships can transport,
Food to feed a city, or supply a large fort.
A whole township of crops in one enormous load,
Or railroad rails enough for eighty miles of road,
A copper cargo worth three millions of dollars,
Or cloth enough to clothe four millions of scholars.
Many are the products transported by these ships,
And vast is the volume for they make many trips,
So great is the traffic it is safe to relate,
There’s no other river has a commerce so great.
Michigan, Wisconsin and big Minnesota,
Furnish the greater part of the immense quota,
And the states further west help augment the treasure,
And Canada assists with a handsome measure.
Grain comes from all the states in the thrifty northwest,
And Manitoba’s wheat takes rank among the best,
Millions of tons of grain are yearly carried by,
And fill elevators that tower in the sky.
Lumber comes from the lakes above the river’s head,
And from the many streams by which the lakes are fed,
Copper and iron go east, coal always to the west,
And ordinary goods the way that pays the best.
Tea and silk from China, India and Japan,
And thousands of products, the handiwork of man,
Fruits from California, elegant wines from France,
And ev’ry thing on earth that does man’s wealth enhance.
One product not mentioned that moves itself along,
Is the excellent fish that in the river throng,
Myriads in number, of great value for food,
Catching them for pleasure does the fisherman good.
With commerce unequaled and beauty unexcelled,
And water as pretty as ever river held,
This elegant river, its story now outlined,
Deserves to be admired by all ranks of mankind.
