LAKE QUINSIGAMOND.
Beautiful lake, with thy silvery sheen,
Many a tale thou couldst tell I ween;
Tales of the years long since gone by,
When the wild deer and the wolf were nigh;
When over thy waters fair and blue,
The red man sailed in his birch canoe;
When no step but his was heard on thy shore
As he wandered thy wooded hillsides o’er.
Silvery lake, thou wert then, I trow,