I have made a voyage upon a golden river, 'Neath clouds of opal and of amethyst. Along its banks bright shapes were moving ever, And threatening shadows melted into mist. The eye, unpractised, sometimes lost the current, When some wild rapid of the tide did whirl, While yet a master hand beyond the torrent Freed my frail shallop from the perilous swirl. Music went with me, fairy flute and viol, The utterance of fancies half expressed, And with these, steadfast, beyond pause or trial, The deep, majestic throb of Nature's breast. My journey nears its close—in some still haven My bark shall find its anchorage of rest, When the kind hand, which ever good has given, Opening with wider grace, shall give the best.
You may also enjoy Ms. Howe's interesting travel memoir, A Trip to Cuba (1860).
Return to the Julia Ward Howe library , or . . . Read the next poem; In Music Hall