THE red and gold and silver haze Of early Indian summer days Along the Wissahickon! Dan Cupid, could there ever be A likelier place on land or sea Wherein to plan your Arcady And let your love plots thicken? There earliest stirred the feet of spring, There summer dreamed on drowsy wing! And autumn's glories longest cling Along the Wissahickon. On winter nights ghost-music plays (The bells of long-forgotten sleighs) Along the Wissahickon, And many a silver-headed wight Who drove that pleasant road by night Sighs now for his old appetite For waffles hot and chicken. And grandmas now, who then were belles! How many a placid bosom swells At thought of love's old charms and spells Along the Wissahickon. You, Gloriana, you who know The word, low spoken long ago, Along the Wissahickon, The word that was the golden key To ope the gates of Arcady For one man. Come! and walk with me Where sweetest memories quicken, That once again the charms that brood Through all the sylvan solitude May bless the wooer and the wooed -- Along the Wissahickon. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...F. DE SAMARA TO A.G.A. by EMILY JANE BRONTE A TERRE (BEING THE PHILOSOPHY OF MANY SOLDIERS) by WILFRED OWEN THE SLEEPING BEAUTY by SAMUEL ROGERS MAUD MULLER by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER IMITATRIX ALES by AULUS LICINIUS ARCHIAS THE DOOR-BELL by CHARLOTTE BECKER ON THE LOSS OF A PIOUS FRIEND by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD |