I have not written for profit nor published for fame. Fame is a coy
goddess that rarely bestows her favors on him who seeks her--a phantom
that many pursue and but few overtake.

She delights to hover for a time, like a ghost, over the graves of dead
men who know not and care not: to the living she is a veritable _Ignis
Fatuus_. But every man owes something to his fellowmen, and I owe much.

If my friends find half the pleasure in reading these poems that I have
found in writing them, I shall have paid my debt and achieved success.

H.L. GORDON.

Minneapolis, November 1, 1891.





PRELUDE


THE MISSISSIPPI

The numerals refer to _Notes_ in appendix.


Onward rolls the Royal River, proudly sweeping to the sea,
Dark and deep and grand, forever wrapt in myth and mystery.