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 | The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer |  |
167
KE-U-KA REVISITED.
Loved Lake! I have seen thee once more,
And the hills that slope down to thy wave,
And gazed on thy picturesque shore,
While nature a welcoming gave.
Old woods, like the sun-bow arrayed,
By the breath of October were stirred
And music to soothe me was made
By wind, singing ripple and bird.
And the hills that slope down to thy wave,
And gazed on thy picturesque shore,
While nature a welcoming gave.
Old woods, like the sun-bow arrayed,
By the breath of October were stirred
And music to soothe me was made
By wind, singing ripple and bird.
How sweet was the murmuring roll
Of each wavelet that broke on the strand!
And I thought I was wafted in soul
From earth to some magical land.
Circling over thy bosom of blue
The light, graceful gull was afloat,
And gravelly Bluff Point loomed to view
From the deck of our beautiful boat.
Of each wavelet that broke on the strand!
And I thought I was wafted in soul
From earth to some magical land.
Circling over thy bosom of blue
The light, graceful gull was afloat,
And gravelly Bluff Point loomed to view
From the deck of our beautiful boat.
Though changed since the summit I trod
In the deep green of summer-time drest,
It towered a grand altar of God,
And mist rose like smoke from its breast.
My hat waved in air at the sight,
And I cheered in my fullness of joy,
While back came a sense of delight
That I knew, when a wild, dreaming boy.
In the deep green of summer-time drest,
It towered a grand altar of God,
And mist rose like smoke from its breast.
My hat waved in air at the sight,
And I cheered in my fullness of joy,
While back came a sense of delight
That I knew, when a wild, dreaming boy.
The red man may well with a sigh
Look there on a paradise lost,
While the bones of his forefathers lie
Exposed to the gale and the frost.
His pines, so majestic of old,
Stand dreary, like battle-thinn'd ranks;
The stone of his altar is cold,
His trail blotted out on thy banks.
Look there on a paradise lost,
168
Exposed to the gale and the frost.
His pines, so majestic of old,
Stand dreary, like battle-thinn'd ranks;
The stone of his altar is cold,
His trail blotted out on thy banks.
Ke-u-ka! thrice blest would I be,
Could a home by thy waters be mine;
No monarch beyond the blue sea
Would drink such a draught of life's wine.
My harp, draped no longer in black,
Would wake to a rapturous strain;
The dream of romance would come back,
And my spirit grow youthful again.
Could a home by thy waters be mine;
No monarch beyond the blue sea
Would drink such a draught of life's wine.
My harp, draped no longer in black,
Would wake to a rapturous strain;
The dream of romance would come back,
And my spirit grow youthful again.
The child of my love has an eye
Like the deep azure tint of thy breast,
And her cheek wears the roseate dye
On thy mirror by sunset impressed.
I caught the bright gleam of her hair
In thy swell, edged by morning with gold,
And the snow of her forehead so fair
In the flash of thy foam did behold.
Like the deep azure tint of thy breast,
And her cheek wears the roseate dye
On thy mirror by sunset impressed.
I caught the bright gleam of her hair
In thy swell, edged by morning with gold,
And the snow of her forehead so fair
In the flash of thy foam did behold.
How grandly the wood-belted hills
In thy surf dipped their gray, rocky feet,
While leaped down a thousand bright rills,
Like children their mother to greet!
Three cheers for the steamer Steuben!
May she aye be a stranger to wreck,
Not forgetting that jewel of men,
The Captain who paces her deck.
In thy surf dipped their gray, rocky feet,
While leaped down a thousand bright rills,
Like children their mother to greet!
Three cheers for the steamer Steuben!
May she aye be a stranger to wreck,
Not forgetting that jewel of men,
The Captain who paces her deck.
| The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer | |