This is from the book “True Tales of Clarion River,” published in 1933 by George P. Sheffer and the Northwestern Pennsylvania Raftsmen’s Association. The poem below was written by Elizabeth Williams Reck of Bradford, PA.

Of the dear old Clarion river

A word I like to say;

It was there I spent such happy hours

In my early childhood days.

 

May dear ones who we loved,

Who lived beside thy shore,

Have gone to rest, God bless them,

And their forms we see no more.

 

I used to sit upon thy bank,

When everything was still,

And watch the silver moon come up,

And hear the whippoorwill.

 

The time is gliding swiftly by,

And yet it seems not long,

Since I sat upon thy mossy bank,

And heard the raftman’s song.

 

But those happy days are over,

And I can’t resist a sigh,

For the rafts will never run again,

As they did in years gone by.

 

Still the sturdy oak is standing,

Also the stately pine,

The red berries that we used to love

Still grow on the vine.

 

I remember the wild grapevine

That stood beside the shore,

And in its branches we would swing,

In the happy days of yore.

 

The path wound ‘round the hillside,

To guide my dancing feet,

To pluck the wild roses,

And honeysuckles sweet.

 

Every spot is dear to me,

For in my mind I see,

The dear old Clarion river,

As it rambles to the sea.