Bret Harte,
East and West: Poems
“ There is peace in the swamp, though the quiet is Death, Though the mist is miasm, the Upas tree's breath, Though no echo awakes to the cooing of doves,— There is peace: yes, the peace that the Copperhead loves!Go seek him: he coils in the ooze and the drip Like a thong idly flung from the slave-driver's whip; But beware the false footstep,—the stumble that brings A deadlier lash than the overseer swings. ”
