Twin Lake

The shadows fall on Twin Lake fair

As crimson sets the Autumn sun;

A holy hush is on the air

Of eventide and day is done.

No zephyrs kiss the little lake;

So still and calm is either shore,

That on her face dim shadows wake

And deepen ever more and more.

And where the long-leaf laurels grow

A cuckoo sounds the hour of rest,

And fondly answering far below

Its mate is calling from her nest.

Now comes the twilight, calm and still,

And, with a cloak of sable hue,

Half hides the lake and upland hill

That faint and fainter fades from view.

And through the broken web of night

Each stalwart star with even ray

Reflects upon the lake a light

To guide a boatman on his way.

And soon the massive moon doth ride

Athwart the pine trees’ heavy shade,

That doth her fiery chariot hide,

As an apparent halt is made.

And sweetly from a maiden fair

In yon canoe that skirts the shore

A laugh rings out upon the air

And echoes softly o'er and o'er

Till dying on the distant hill,

An evening silence settles far,—

A quietness, so calm, so still,

With rising moon and silent star —

That peace, sweet peace subdues the soul,

While on the clear and pensive air

The bells of Como softly toll

The ever-sacred hour of prayer.