On the banks of the Willamette
She saw her love standing,
In the shade of the tall evergreen;
So dear to her heart
Was that form so commanding,
But the dark waters rolling between.
She saw him awaiting
Most gracefully bowing,
And hastened that she in return—
Some token might give him,
Of confidence in him,
With rapture her bosom did burn.
And as she was straying
The zephyrs were saying,
As they float at the brink of the stream—
Oh, maiden, forbear,
Not a sigh or a tear,
When, lo, she awoke from her dream.
E. M.
Oregon Spectator, February 22, 1849.