Excerpt from epic Mississippi River history poem written by Amy Boudreau in honor of the 250th anniversary of New Orleans in 1968.
THE GREAT RIVER (The Mississippi)
This is a tale of the River,
Mighty, and rushing, and wie,
That stream of destiny which holds
The valley in its tide.
The story's magnitude and scope
Defy imagination;
It covers many a thousand mile,
And more than one great nation.
And as the tale unfolds one feels
A force that will not bend;
The tale has no beginning,
And no one knows its end.
"Great River", the Indians called it,
And, "Father of Waters", too,-
That stream so fabulous in size,
Ancient, yet always new!
Came first its great explorers,
Adventurous and bold.
They came commissioned by their kings,
In quest of land and gold.
Explorers and adventurers all-
Men of the Cross as well-
Followed by others hoping that
In peace they here might dwell.
We see them move with firm, sure step
Across our history's page
With the country's early background
And the River as their stage.
From all parts of the world they com,
The River aids their course.
Varied their talents and their skills-
A gallant, stalwart force!
Both up and down the River's length
They flow in endless stream;
Strong with the strength of pioneers,
And each pursues a dream!
Some settle on the River's banks,
Some spread across the land
To seek new fortunes, build new homes,
And new frontiers expand.
The years brought industry and trade-
The River never ceased to flow-
It saw its sailing vessels leave,
Its steamboats come and go;
Saw swifter vessels take their place,
Larger and stronger, too.
We wonder, does it sometimes dream
of the Indian's canoe?
But the River met the challenge
Of all that man could dare;
Relentless and perpetual,
It did its mighty share.
And from its curving banks it saw
Forests go; cities rise;
Saw little settlements begin,
Then buildings soar to reach the skies.
Yet sometimes now we seem to hear
A long-past church bell chim,
And a soft "Te Deum" echoing
A French and Spanish time.
This is a tale of the River,
Mighty, and rushing, and wide,
That stream of destiny which holds
The Valley in its tide.