Classic Poem

Where slope the purple hills
Darkly away,
When the morn breaketh,
Or setteth the day,
Where the low wooded shores
Still watches keep,
There are the twin blue lakes,
Lying asleep.
Once have I rode along,
By the calm waters,
Lovely in sleeping,
Those wild forest daughters;
Rode by the peaceful shore,
Quiet and green,
Where the road windeth,
So gently between,
Parting the twin lakes,
It seemeth asunder,
Though the wave meeteth wave,
Secretly under.
Saw where the branches
The waters caressed;
Heard the wind whispering
Over its breast,
And on the shore,
Where the tall rushes grew,
Where the green island
Lay out in the blue,
Over the everglade,
In the still air,
Rose the sweet cadence
And fell everywhere.
While the boats glided
Away from the shore,
Spreading their white wings,
And dipping the oar,
Flitting like birds at sea,
Forward and back,
Where the wave softly
Closed over their track.
Wafted from shore to isle
Ever they go,
O'er the blue waters'
Unvarying flow.
Sweet isle of the blessed,
Methinks that it lies,
Like this, in the soft,
Summer blue of the skies.
While thus to the shore,
They are floating away,
From earth and its troubles,
Forever and aye.
Floating and floating—
The soft mists arise,
Even now as I gaze,
At the wave and the skies;
And the blue of the lake,
With the blue of the ether,
Are blending in one,
And are gliding together,
Twin lakes of the wild wood,
Oh, thus did ye lie,
In the years that have passed,
With their memories by
Here sailed the wild Indian,
Over the blue,
As swift as an arrow,
His glancing canoe;
And here did the maiden,
As white maidens now,
Bend over the water,
To mirror her brow.
Sleep on quiet lakes,
As they sleep by your side,
The Indian chief,
And his Indian bride;
Sleep on, for no war song
Awakens the wild;
Nor lurks in the forest,
The dark forest child.
The hatchet lies buried,
Its threatening gleam
Is shining no more,
By the lake or the stream;
Nor falls the red fire light
Over your breast,
The warrior lieth,
And taketh his rest.
Then take your rest like him,
Twin lakes of the wood,
Sleep peacefully on
In the deep solitude;
While droops the green curtain,
Around you and over,
And shores are caressing,
Like arms of a lover.