The Ocklawaha

River, winding from the west, Winding from the River May, Often hath the Indian pressed Through your black-gums and your mosses, Where the alligator crosses Still some lily-paven bay, Basking there in lazy rest.

Still the spider-lily loops Sprawling flowers, peels of pearl, Where the green magnolia stoops Buds to yellow-lily bonnets; Where, the morning dew upon its Golden funnels, curl on curl, The festooning jasmine droops.

Who may paint the beauty of Orchids blooming late in June, Bristling on the boughs above! Cypress trees where vine and flower, Long, liana’d blossoms shower On the deer that come at noon To the inlets that they love.

Lilied inlets,--where the teal Dabble ’mid the water-grasses,-- That some treasure seem to seal With white blooms that star the river: Bays, the swift kingfishers shiver Into circles as each passes O’er their mirrors that reveal.

Bends, reflecting root and moss, Where the tall palmettos throng ’Mid the live-oaks; tower and toss Panther necks whose heads are heavy: Hamaks, where the perfumes levy Tribute from the birds in song, From the mocking-birds that cross.

Logs, the turtles haunt; and deeps Of lagoons the searching crane Wades; and where the heron sleeps; Where the screaming limpkins listen, And the leaping mullet glisten; Where the bream and bass show plain, And the dark didapper sweeps.

Coäcoochee! Coäcoochee! Still your loved magnolias bloom, Still the tangled Cherokee; Still the blazing-star spreads splendor Through the forest, and the tender Discs of the hibiscus loom, Rosy, where you once roamed free.

Osceola! Osceola! Phantoms of your vanquished race Seem around me: overawe All my soul here. Mossy regions Swarm with Seminoles: lost legions Rise, the war-paint on each face-- Dead, long dead for Florida!