Lake Louise

I THINK that when the Master Jeweler tells

His beads of beauty over, seeking there

One gem to name as most supremely fair,

To you He turns, O lake of hidden wells!

So very lovely are you, Lake Louise,

The stars which crown your lifted peaks at even

Mistake you for a little sea in heaven

And nightly launch their shining argosies.

From shore to dim-lit shore a ripple slips,

The happy sigh of faintly stirring night

Where safe she sleeps upon this virgin height

Captive of dream and smiling with white lips.

Surely a spell, creation-old, was made

For you, O lake of silences, that all

Earth's fretting voices here should muted fall,

As if a finger on their lips were laid!