Classic Poem

I LOOK'D across the water,
I bent over it and listen'd,
I thought it was my lover,
My true lover's paddle glisten'd.
Joyous thus his light canoe would the silver ripples wake.
But no, it is the Loon alone — the Loon upon the lake,
Ah me! it is the Loon alone — the Loon upon the lake.

I see the fallen maple
Where he stood, his red scarf waving,
Though waters nearly bury
Boughs they then were newly laving.
I hear his last farewell, as it echoed from the brake.
But no, it is the Loon alone — the Loon upon the lake,
Ah me! it is the Loon alone — the Loon upon the lake.