Beside Missouri's swelling waves
  An Indian maiden knelt,
And gazed across the shadowed stream,
  And through the forest's belt;
And while the leaves about her fell,
  And birds all nestward flew,
"Oh, that I might but see," she cried,
  "My lover's light canoe!"

The lurid air, the brassy sky,
  Await the throbbing gale;
And o'er the pathway of the sun
  The loosened vapors sail;
And, spreading east and west, they smirch
  Each speck of heavenly blue;
But still the lonely watcher sighs,
  "Where is his light canoe?"

A black duck lighted on a wave,
  And pecked its oily breast;
"I see," the Indian maiden said,
  "My lover's eagle crest!"
But soon the bird its cradle spurned,
  And cloudward swiftly flew;
"Ah no! 't is not my lover's crest,
  'T is not his light canoe."

A fish leaped from the river's brim;
  "I see his paddle dart!"
It sank into the waves again,
  And like it sank her heart.
"Ah, woe is me! the storm comes down,
  I hear its rushing sugh,
Great Spirit! bring, oh bring him back,
  Safe in his light canoe!"

She heeded not the arrowy rain,
  The swelling flood, the blast;
She gazed across the smoking tide,
  Until the storm had past:
The purple clouds coiled o'er the west,
  The red sun shimmered through;
It flushed the wave, but did not show
  The Indian's light canoe.

Ah, Indian maiden! watch no more
  Beside Missouri's stream;
In vain thou strain'st thine eyes to see
  Thy lover's paddle gleam!
The white men's guns have laid him low!
  Long, long did they pursue;
And now the intrepid warrior lies
  Stiff in his light canoe!