To the Potomac River
by Henry Bedinger
“Grand Potomac, monarch river,
Claiming tribute everywhere,
From thy vassals who deliver,
Willingly, each one his share.
Noble River, onward flowing,
Through rugged pass or quiet glade,
Where the grim old forests growing
Gloom thy waters with their shade.
In thine anger, calling loudly
To the rocks thy shores upon,
But in silence marching proudly
By the tomb of Washington.
Softy flowing - moving only,
Where the fertile meadow teems,”
(Past the ghost of Marshall Hall.
What once was great, now only dreams.)
(additional lines by M.E. Marshall)
[They didn’t get the last word!]