The skies were serene, not a cloud was in sight, Not an angry surge beat on the shore, And I gazed on the waters, and then on the light, Till my vision could bear it no more.
Oh! long shall I think of those silver-bright lakes, And the scenes they exposed to my view; My friends—and the wishes I formed for their sakes, And my bright yellow birchen canoe.
Sault Ste. Marie, November 12th, 1825.
ON LEAVING THE VILLAGE OF GENEVA
IN 1812.
When acts of affection have soften’d the heart, And taught two fond bosoms in union to glow, Oh! how sweet is the joy that their meetings impart, The pleasures how lively from converse that flow.
But oh! when the warm hand of friendship sincere, Is shook—and those pleasures are soon to be past, How painful the thought, and how galling the fear, That friends are assembled—perhaps for the last.
Yes! such were the pangs I was destined to know, When from thy dear circle I lately withdrew; And I said, as we parted, wherever I go, Oh! think of me often, and I’ll think of you.
’Tis thus we may still, although seas intervene, In fond recollection past pleasures recall, And forget in our dreams of the days that have been, The woes that await us—the ills that befall.
And oft, as ye rove o’er the frequented green, Or pause at high noon, to regale in the shade, Remember how oft with you there I have been, When summer with roses enamelled the glade.