Ma-hican-ittuck!
River of the Mountains,
Poured to the sea
From Adirondack crags,
Buoying the leafy
Tribute of your fountains,
Rocking the navies
Of a hundred flags!

Forests are yours,
And fair embowered islands;
Cities are yours
Whose towers touch the skies.
Curve grandly down
Your goblin-haunted Highlands;
Lave, golden-waved,
The vale where Irving lies.

Deep-breasted stream,
What tales your hills have told me!
Playmate and friend
In days of youthful glow,
Now, as of old,
In crystal arms enfold me;
Take me again
Within your cooling flow!

Plunging, I watch
Your deeper waters changing
Gold-lighted green
To amethystine shade;
Strong-armed and free,
Your boundless bosom ranging,
My heart in yours
Beats warm and unafraid.