| Awake, awake! for my track is red, | |
| With the glow of the coming day; | |
| And with tinkling tread, from my dusty bed, | |
| I haste o’er the hills away, | |
| Up from the valley, up from the plain, | 5 |
| Up from the river’s side; | |
| For I come with a gush, and a torrent’s rush, | |
| And there’s wealth in my swelling tide. | |
| |
| I am fed by the melting rills that start | |
| Where the sparkling snow-peaks gleam, | 10 |
| My voice is free, and with fiercest glee | |
| I leap in the sun’s broad beam; | |
| Tho’ torn from the channels deep and old, | |
| I have worn through the craggy hill, | |
| Yet I flow in pride, as my waters glide, | 15 |
| And there’s mirth in my music still. | |
| |
| I sought the shore of the sounding sea, | |
| From the far Sierra’s hight, | |
| With a starry breast, and a snow-capped crest | |
| I foamed in a path of light; | 20 |
| But they bore me thence in a winding way, | |
| The’ve fettered me like a slave, | |
| And as scarfs of old were exchanged for gold, | |
| So they barter my soil-stained wave. | |
| |
| Thro’ the deep tunnel, down the dark shaft, | 25 |
| I search for the shining ore; | |
| Hoist it away to the light of day, | |
| Which it never has seen before. | |
| Spade and shovel, mattock and pick, | |
| Ply them with eager haste; | 30 |
| For my golden shower is sold by the hour, | |
| And the drops are too dear to waste. | |
| |
| Lift me aloft to the mountain’s brow, | |
| Fathom the deep “blue vein,” | |
| And I’ll sift the soil for the shining spoil, | 35 |
| As I sink to the valley again. | |
| The swell of my swarthy breast shall bear | |
| Pebble and rock away, | |
| Though they brave my strength, they shall yield at length, | |
| But the glittering gold shall stay. | 40 |
| |
| Mine is no stern and warrior march, | |
| No stormy trump and drum; | |
| No banners gleam in my darkened stream, | |
| As with conquering step I come; | |
| But I touch the tributary earth | 45 |
| Till it owns a monarch’s sway, | |
| And with eager hand, from a conquered land, | |
| I bear its wealth away. | |
| |
| Awake, awake! there are living hearts | |
| In the lands you’ve left afar; | 50 |
| There are tearful eyes in the homes you prize | |
| As they gaze on the western star; | |
| Then up from the valley, up from the hill, | |
| Up from the river’s side; | |
| For I come with a gush, and a torrent’s rush, | 55 |
| And there’s wrath in my swelling tide. | |
| |
