There undulates the water-shield, up points the pennoned grass;
The rocking swallow seeks the gnat, the night-hawk rumbles o’er;
The water-spider’s globule shoots in silver through the glass
And floats the fire-fly’s throbbing torch of gold along the shore.
THE LOWER SARANAC.
Lightly flies my fleet bark across the glittering water,
Sweetly talk the ripples before the furrowing prow,
Mellow streams the sunset within the skirting forest,
Mellow melts the west wind in kisses on my brow.
Oh this life is glorious, this life within the wild-wood!
Far, oh, far away flee the troubles of our lot!
Wide expands the bosom, a boyish heart is dancing,
Dancing with the gladness o’erflowing every spot!
Dreamy like the past stands-the distant blue Tahawhus;
Gleamy like the present, old Moosehead rears his crest;
Filmy like the future in front the bowery island;
Sparkling like our wishes the water’s ripply breast.
Look, a wandering snowflake, the white gull in the distance!
Indian pink on pinions, the red-bird’s darting glow!
Upward leaps the trout, and afar the loon is floating,
Dotting dark the sun-gleam, then flashing bright below.
Turn the buoyant bark through the elm’s cathedral archway!
Nestles cool the cove filled with babble of the brook,
Sunny specks, and spice from the lily’s pearly scallops;
So from glare of life hides some sweet domestic nook.