Classic Poem

A little lake, whose waters lay
Amongst green lawns, and stately trees,
Where sounded, on that August day,
The thrush's liquid melodies.
Slow drifted we about the isles,
And talked and laughed — it seemed so pleasant;
Say, was it but the day's rare wiles,
Or that your own fair self was present
To charm me, Kitty?

Willows around the rim did stand,
Your hair caught in their dreaming branches;
A tale came to me of that land
Beyond the land of avalanches;
A Tuscan tale, of princess bright
Caught in a weird enchanter's toils,
And helpless, till a wandering knight
With sword and steed the wizard foils,
And rescues Kitty.

The fairy-land-like afternoon
Grew paler with the breath of night;
Cool-shadowed was the lakelet soon,
Though on fair slopes still lay the light.
Back glided toward the bank our boat,
Forth stepped its nymph in summery white
Have you forgot those hours afloat,
The lake, the lawns of which I write
These verses, Kitty?