by Alfred E.Hostelley (1863-1947)

O Susquehanna, placid stream!
O river, clear and wide!
How like the current of a dream
Thy sparkling waters glide.

Upon thy banks no shipyards stand,
Nor ever on thee float
Proud men-of-war, equipped and manned,
On which the seamen dote.

But forests skirt along thy sides,
And hills and fruitful farms;
And rills rush into thee like brides
Into their lovers arms.

Along thy borders grow fair flow'rs,
And there their feathers preen
Full many a flock in sunny hours,
By sportsmen's eyes unseen.

Within thy cool pellucid deeps
His sides the salmon shows;
and where thy silvery current sleeps
The hawk his shadow throws;

And when the summer's reign has come
With all its heat and glare,
Along thy banks fond lovers roam,
Nor fail to find thee fair.

And Susquehanna! when the West,
In happy autumn days,
Lights up his Islands of the Blest,
To see thee is to praise.

And I do praise thee, and the homes
That stand upon thy shore;
And as each circling season comes,
I love thee more and more.

And if one wish I may be given-
'Tis this, O river wide!
That when my summons comes from heaven,
'Twill find me near thy tide,

For here beside thy winding wave
I lost my bosom's treasure;
And now between us lies a grave-
that sanctifies my pleasure.