The gull darts by, a flash of snow;
Deep from thy brink green pictures gleam;
The loon shouts o’er, and shoots below;
The soft haze folds thee in a dream.
The lily lifts its creamy cup
In thy broad shallows, amber clear;
And there the thatch shoots bristling up,
And there steals down the drinking deer.
On thy bright breast each fairy isle
Strews its rock-vase, with foliage brimmed;
And from thee grandly, pile on pile,
Soar the steep crags with thunders rimmed.
In thy smooth glades the camp-fire flames;
The hunter’s light boat tracks thy wave;
Thy ooze in caves the muskrat frames;
The otter, in thee loves to lave.
Wild forest lake! oh, would my home,
My happy home, were reared by thee!
Thence would my full heart never roam,
From care and trouble ever free.
THE AUSABLE.
IN the stately Indian Pass,
From my fount of shadowy glass,
I struggle along in hollow song on my blind and caverned way.
Sharp, splintered crags ascend,
Wild firs above me bend,
And I leap and dash with many a flash to find the welcome day.