“Driver, what stream is it?” I asked, well knowing
it was our lordly Hudson hardly flowing.
“It is our lordly Hudson hardly flowing,”
he said, “under the green-grown cliffs.”
Be still, heart! No one needs
your passionate suffrage to select this glory–
this is our lordly Hudson hardly flowing
under the green-grown cliffs.
“Driver, has this a peer in Europe or the East?”
“No, no!” he said.
Home! Home! Be quiet, heart!
This is our lordly Hudson
and has no peer in Europe or the east;
this is our lordly Hudson hardly flowing
under the green-grown cliffs
and has no peer in Europe or the East;
be quiet, heart! Home! Home!
Paul Goodman, “The Lordly Hudson”
UPDATE: As Old Hag notes, this poem has been set to music–beautifully–by Ned Rorem (see yesterday’s almanac entry). She and I agree that the best recording currently available on CD is by Susan Graham and Malcolm Martineau.