The boats leap in the wind.
The sky shows blue in the water.
I hear the old field lark sing.

The prairies green
And the geese feed
On the young grass.

White cranes rise
From the blue river.

The captain walks on shore
With Charbonneau, the squaw,
And the babe by the willows.

Now in our passage
The thousand geese rise.
All sound, all sight,
Waits on the beating of their wings,
Waits on their cries,
Till they are free from earth
All strung out in the sky.