| |
| HOW oft in visions of the night, | |
| How oft in noonday dreaming, | |
| I ’ve seen, fair lake, thy forest wave,— | |
| Have seen thy waters gleaming; | |
| Have heard the blowing of the winds | 5 |
| That sweep along thy highlands, | |
| And the light laughter of the waves | |
| That dance around thine islands. | |
| |
| It was a landscape of the mind, | |
| With forms and hues ideal, | 10 |
| But still those hues and forms appeared | |
| More lovely than aught real. | |
| I feared to see the breathing scene, | |
| And brooded o’er the vision, | |
| Lest the hard touch of truth should mar | 15 |
| A picture so Elysian. | |
| |
| But now I break the cold distrust | |
| Whose spells so long had bound me; | |
| The shadows of the night are past,— | |
| The morning shines around me. | 20 |
| And in the sober light of day, | |
| I see, with eyes enchanted, | |
| The glorious vision that so long | |
| My day and night dreams haunted. | |
| |
| I see the green, translucent wave, | 25 |
| The purest of earth’s fountains; | |
| I see the many-winding shore,— | |
| The double range of mountains: | |
| One, neighbor to the flying clouds, | |
| And crowned with leaf and blossom, | 30 |
| And one, more lovely, borne within | |
| The lake’s unruffled bosom. | |
| |
| O timid heart! with thy glad throbs | |
| Some self-reproach is blended, | |
| At the long years that died before | 35 |
| The sight of scene so splendid. | |
| The mind has pictures of its own, | |
| Fair trees and waters flowing— | |
| But not a magic whole like this, | |
| So living, breathing, glowing; | 40 |
| |
| Strength imaged in the wooded hills, | |
| A grand, primeval nature, | |
| And beauty mirrored in the lake, | |
| A gentler, softer feature; | |
| A perfect union,—where no want | 45 |
| Upon the soul is pressing; | |
| Like manly power and female grace | |
| Made one by bridal blessing. | |
| |
| Nor is the stately scene without | |
| Its sweet, secluded treasures, | 50 |
| Where hearts that shun the crowd may find | |
| Their own exclusive pleasures; | |
| Deep chasms of shade for pensive thought, | |
| The hours to wear away in; | |
| And vaulted aisles of whispering pine, | 55 |
| For lovers’ feet to stray in; | |
| |
| Clear streams that from the uplands run, | |
| A course of sunless shadow; | |
| Isles all unfurrowed by the plough, | |
| And strips of fertile meadow; | 60 |
| And rounded coves of silver sand, | |
| Where moonlight plays and glances,— | |
| A sheltered hall for elfin horns, | |
| A floor for elfin dances. | |
| |
| No tame monotony is here, | 65 |
| But beauty ever changing; | |
| With clouds, and shadows of the clouds, | |
| And mists the hillsides ranging. | |
| Where morning’s gold, and noon’s hot sun, | |
| Their changing glories render; | 70 |
| Pour round the shores a varying light, | |
| Now glowing and now tender. | |
| |
| But purer than the shifting gleams | |
| By liberal sunshine given, | |
| Is the deep spirit of that hour,— | 75 |
| An effluence breathed from Heaven; | |
| When the unclouded, yellow moon | |
| Hangs o’er the eastern ridges, | |
| And the long shaft of trembling gold, | |
| The trembling crystal bridges. | 80 |
| |
| Farewell, sweet lake! brief were the hours | |
| Along thy banks for straying; | |
| But not farewell what memory takes,— | |
| An image undecaying. | |
| I hold secure beyond all change | 85 |
| One lovely recollection, | |
| To cheer the hours of lonely toil, | |
| And chase away dejection. | |
| |
