Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
America: Vols. XXV–XXIX. 1876–79.
Memphis
By John Townsend Trowbridge (1827–1916)A
Upon the Mississippi; where he stayed
His course at Memphis, undecided whether
He should go back or forward. Here he strayed
One afternoon along the esplanade
And high bluff of the river-fronting town,
To watch the boats and see the sun go down.
Of the strong river sweeping vast and slow,
Gleaming far off, a flood of crimson light;
And, darkly hung between it and the glow
Of a most lovely sunset sky, the low,
Interminable forests of Arkansas,
Might have inspired some very pretty stanzas.
A broadly shelving bank, well trodden and bare,
Called by a singular misunderstanding
The levee,—while there is no levee there;
The famous landing at New Orleans, where
There is one, having fixed the name forever
For that and other landings on the river.
And bales of hay, awaiting transportation;
Ploughs, household goods, and kegs of rum or nails,
Endless supplies for village and plantation,
Enclosed a scene of wondrous animation,
Of outcry and apparent wild confusion
Contrasting with the sunset’s soft illusion;—
With delicately pillared decks, the clang
Of bells, the uproar of escaping steam;
There, tugging at some heavy rope, the gang
Of slaves that all together swayed and sang,
Their voices rising in a wild, rich chime,
To which lithe forms and lithe black arms kept time;
Driven in their turn by madly yelling blacks;
Chairs, tables, kitchen-ware and farming-tools,
Carts, wagons, barrels, boxes, bales, and sacks,
Pushed, hauled, rolled, tumbled, tossed, or borne on backs
Of files of men, across the ways of plank
Between the loading steamers and the bank!
And deepening shadows cooled the upper air,
The waves were lighted by the lurid gleam
Of flamebeaux that began to smoke and flare,
And cast a picturesque and ruddy glare
On shore and boats and men of every hue.