Mrs. Sarah Tittle Bolton, author of Paddle Your Own Canoe, was born at Newport, Kentucky, in 1820. When she was about three years old, her father removed to Indiana, settling first in Jennings county, but later moving on to Madison. When a young woman, she contributed poems to the Madison newspaper which attracted the editor, Nathaniel Bolton, so strongly that he married the author. They moved to Indianapolis, and Mrs. Bolton soon gained a wide reputation as a poet. Her ode sung at the laying of the corner-stone of the Masonic Temple, in 1850, won her a loving cup from the Masons of Hoosierdom. Two years later her poem in honor of the hero of Hungary, Louis Kossuth, increased her fame. In 1855 Mr. Bolton was appointed consul to Geneva, Switzerland, and his wife accompanied him to his post. They remained in Switzerland for three years, during which time Mrs. Bolton acted as correspondent for the Cincinnati Commercial. In 1858 she and her husband returned to Indianapolis, in which city he died some months later. Her Poems (New York, 1856) brought her newspaper and periodical verse together; and a complete collection, with a notice of her life, was published at Indianapolis in 1886. Mrs. Bolton was Indiana's foremost female singer for many years. She died at Indianapolis in 1893. Of her many poems Paddle Your Own Canoe is the best known, although Left on the Battlefield is admired by many of her readers.
PADDLE YOUR OWN CANOE [From The Poets and Poetry of the West, edited by W. T. Coggeshall (Columbus, Ohio, 1860)] Voyager upon life's sea, To yourself be true, And where'er your lot may be, Paddle your own canoe. Never, though the winds may rave, Falter nor look back; But upon the darkest wave Leave a shining track. Nobly dare the wildest storm, Stem the hardest gale, Brave of heart and strong of arm, You will never fail. When the world is cold and dark, Keep an aim in view; And toward the beacon-mark Paddle your own canoe. Every wave that bears you on To the silent shore, From its sunny source has gone To return no more. Then let not an hour's delay Cheat you of your due; But, while it is called to-day, Paddle your own canoe. If your birth denies you wealth, Lofty state and power, Honest fame and hardy health Are a better dower. Golden gain pursue; And to gain the glittering prize, Paddle your own canoe. Would you wrest the wreath of fame From the hand of fate? Would you write a deathless name With the good and great? Would you bless your fellow-men? Heart and soul imbue With the holy task, and then Paddle your own canoe. Would you crush the tyrant wrong, In the world's free fight? With a spirit brave and strong, Battle for the right. And to break the chains that bind The many to the few— To enfranchise slavish mind— Paddle your own canoe. Nothing great is lightly won, Nothing won is lost; Every good deed, nobly done, Will repay the cost. Leave to Heaven, in humble trust, All you will to do; But if you succeed, you must Paddle your own canoe. |