Classic Poem

O'er Saratoga's bright lake we row,
Bathed in the light of the sunset glow;
We dip our oars in the placid wave,
Our hands in the rippling current lave.

There's scarce a cloud in the summer blue
Save one lit up with a rosy hue,
Like the smile that flits o'er a tranquil face
Lending its softness a richer grace.

The shore is near with its girdle green;
The dim-eyed mountains look far between;
The twittering bird is heard on the bough,
And the shining fish are chased by our prow.

Light jests fall sportive from hearts at ease,
As buds that burst in the spring's warm breeze,
And our laugh o'er the silent water swells,
Like fountain music in echoing dells.

No traitor-tears for the absent rise,
Though deep in our hearts their image lies,
But a light from the thought of their love upsprings,
Like that which is ushered by angel wings.

Oh! Saratoga's fair lake, adieu,
With thy placid waves and thy sky of blue!
Soft thoughts arise with thy evening ray,
They are thoughts of our home—away! away!