SODUS BAY.
Calm in thy pure and summer beauty yet,As when of old my childhood’s glances metThis bright expanse, fair bay! I see thee still—The laughing ripple’s curl, the wood-crowned hill,The deep green shore rising in graceful sweep,The wide smooth waters in their sun-bright sleep,Scorning the change wrought by each passing year,In loveliness unfading, still are here.Lovely thou art, sweet bay!—when first the beamOf morning glances on the silvery streamWhich seeks thy bosom—when the south winds breakThy water’s glassy slumber, and awakeA thousand sparkling eddies—when the skyAt noon gleams blue and distant from on high—When winds are hushed in peace, the flagging sailWooing in vain from Heaven the wished-for gale—Or at bright eve, when the rich sunset’s prideHas gemmed with shining gold their glancing tide—No fairer spot, I ween, the radiant sunIn his broad path of light has looked upon;And the pale moon in all her midnight roundNo place of holier loveliness has found.Nature is here in wildness. Yonder isles,Upon whose wooded verge the sunlight smilesTo meet the glittering wave, know scarce a tread,Save of the lonely huntsman. Yet ’tis said,One hero on their shore has found a grave.He died in fight the death that fits the brave,And sleeps unheeded there:—the mound which swellsSo greenly near, his place of burial tells.Peaceful thou art—the tempests wild that sweepThe lake, are powerless to disturb thy sleep.Thou hear’st the voices of thy parent main,Speaking in thunders;—but their warning strainWakes no stern echo here—in safety stillThe fisherman may guide his bark at will,And smile to hear the billows’ angry roar,Chafing in rage upon the neighboring shore.Farewell! I found, and leave thee, calm and bright,And changeless still!—and thus, when starless nightHas closed on eyes which loved to look on thee,Wilt thou smile on—then, too, as quietlyYon towering banks will look into thy faceOn their unbroken shade. Thou in the embraceOf this wide shore as sweetly shalt repose—As brightly gleam at evening’s fervid close.Thou hast no part in fleeting years that tellOf human ills! My native shore—farewell!E. F. E.
Calm in thy pure and summer beauty yet,As when of old my childhood’s glances metThis bright expanse, fair bay! I see thee still—The laughing ripple’s curl, the wood-crowned hill,The deep green shore rising in graceful sweep,The wide smooth waters in their sun-bright sleep,Scorning the change wrought by each passing year,In loveliness unfading, still are here.Lovely thou art, sweet bay!—when first the beamOf morning glances on the silvery streamWhich seeks thy bosom—when the south winds breakThy water’s glassy slumber, and awakeA thousand sparkling eddies—when the skyAt noon gleams blue and distant from on high—When winds are hushed in peace, the flagging sailWooing in vain from Heaven the wished-for gale—Or at bright eve, when the rich sunset’s prideHas gemmed with shining gold their glancing tide—No fairer spot, I ween, the radiant sunIn his broad path of light has looked upon;And the pale moon in all her midnight roundNo place of holier loveliness has found.Nature is here in wildness. Yonder isles,Upon whose wooded verge the sunlight smilesTo meet the glittering wave, know scarce a tread,Save of the lonely huntsman. Yet ’tis said,One hero on their shore has found a grave.He died in fight the death that fits the brave,And sleeps unheeded there:—the mound which swellsSo greenly near, his place of burial tells.Peaceful thou art—the tempests wild that sweepThe lake, are powerless to disturb thy sleep.Thou hear’st the voices of thy parent main,Speaking in thunders;—but their warning strainWakes no stern echo here—in safety stillThe fisherman may guide his bark at will,And smile to hear the billows’ angry roar,Chafing in rage upon the neighboring shore.Farewell! I found, and leave thee, calm and bright,And changeless still!—and thus, when starless nightHas closed on eyes which loved to look on thee,Wilt thou smile on—then, too, as quietlyYon towering banks will look into thy faceOn their unbroken shade. Thou in the embraceOf this wide shore as sweetly shalt repose—As brightly gleam at evening’s fervid close.Thou hast no part in fleeting years that tellOf human ills! My native shore—farewell!E. F. E.
Calm in thy pure and summer beauty yet,As when of old my childhood’s glances metThis bright expanse, fair bay! I see thee still—The laughing ripple’s curl, the wood-crowned hill,The deep green shore rising in graceful sweep,The wide smooth waters in their sun-bright sleep,Scorning the change wrought by each passing year,In loveliness unfading, still are here.Lovely thou art, sweet bay!—when first the beamOf morning glances on the silvery streamWhich seeks thy bosom—when the south winds breakThy water’s glassy slumber, and awakeA thousand sparkling eddies—when the skyAt noon gleams blue and distant from on high—When winds are hushed in peace, the flagging sailWooing in vain from Heaven the wished-for gale—Or at bright eve, when the rich sunset’s prideHas gemmed with shining gold their glancing tide—No fairer spot, I ween, the radiant sunIn his broad path of light has looked upon;And the pale moon in all her midnight roundNo place of holier loveliness has found.Nature is here in wildness. Yonder isles,Upon whose wooded verge the sunlight smilesTo meet the glittering wave, know scarce a tread,Save of the lonely huntsman. Yet ’tis said,One hero on their shore has found a grave.He died in fight the death that fits the brave,And sleeps unheeded there:—the mound which swellsSo greenly near, his place of burial tells.Peaceful thou art—the tempests wild that sweepThe lake, are powerless to disturb thy sleep.Thou hear’st the voices of thy parent main,Speaking in thunders;—but their warning strainWakes no stern echo here—in safety stillThe fisherman may guide his bark at will,And smile to hear the billows’ angry roar,Chafing in rage upon the neighboring shore.Farewell! I found, and leave thee, calm and bright,And changeless still!—and thus, when starless nightHas closed on eyes which loved to look on thee,Wilt thou smile on—then, too, as quietlyYon towering banks will look into thy faceOn their unbroken shade. Thou in the embraceOf this wide shore as sweetly shalt repose—As brightly gleam at evening’s fervid close.Thou hast no part in fleeting years that tellOf human ills! My native shore—farewell!E. F. E.
Calm in thy pure and summer beauty yet,
As when of old my childhood’s glances met
This bright expanse, fair bay! I see thee still—
The laughing ripple’s curl, the wood-crowned hill,
The deep green shore rising in graceful sweep,
The wide smooth waters in their sun-bright sleep,
Scorning the change wrought by each passing year,
In loveliness unfading, still are here.
Lovely thou art, sweet bay!—when first the beam
Of morning glances on the silvery stream
Which seeks thy bosom—when the south winds break
Thy water’s glassy slumber, and awake
A thousand sparkling eddies—when the sky
At noon gleams blue and distant from on high—
When winds are hushed in peace, the flagging sail
Wooing in vain from Heaven the wished-for gale—
Or at bright eve, when the rich sunset’s pride
Has gemmed with shining gold their glancing tide—
No fairer spot, I ween, the radiant sun
In his broad path of light has looked upon;
And the pale moon in all her midnight round
No place of holier loveliness has found.
Nature is here in wildness. Yonder isles,
Upon whose wooded verge the sunlight smiles
To meet the glittering wave, know scarce a tread,
Save of the lonely huntsman. Yet ’tis said,
One hero on their shore has found a grave.
He died in fight the death that fits the brave,
And sleeps unheeded there:—the mound which swells
So greenly near, his place of burial tells.
Peaceful thou art—the tempests wild that sweep
The lake, are powerless to disturb thy sleep.
Thou hear’st the voices of thy parent main,
Speaking in thunders;—but their warning strain
Wakes no stern echo here—in safety still
The fisherman may guide his bark at will,
And smile to hear the billows’ angry roar,
Chafing in rage upon the neighboring shore.
Farewell! I found, and leave thee, calm and bright,
And changeless still!—and thus, when starless night
Has closed on eyes which loved to look on thee,
Wilt thou smile on—then, too, as quietly
Yon towering banks will look into thy face
On their unbroken shade. Thou in the embrace
Of this wide shore as sweetly shalt repose—
As brightly gleam at evening’s fervid close.
Thou hast no part in fleeting years that tell
Of human ills! My native shore—farewell!
E. F. E.