So, beauty of youth, comes the name you are dreaming,—
Too pure for concealment, too gentle for pride;
So smiles on your faces the sunshine of heaven,—
The blessing distilled in the gardens of air,—
A smile of contentment from Paradise given
That woman and lake have been fashioned so fair.
Pure Horicon! glassing the brows of the mountains,
As handmaid might bend to a conqueror’s will,
Although nurtured and swelled by the commonest fountains
Yet pure and transparent and beautiful still!