Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Americas: Vol. XXX. 1876–79.
Lake of the Thousand Islands
By Charles Sangster (18221893)H
Steeped in warm sunset all the merry day,
Each nodding tree and floating greenwood smiles,
And moss-crowned monsters move in grim array;
All night the fisher spears his finny prey,
The piny flambeaux reddening the deep
By the dim shore, or up some mimic bay
Like grotesque bandits as they boldly sweep
Upon the startled prey, and stab them while they sleep.
Is told of these romantic Isles. The feet
Of the red man impressed each wave-zoned shore,
And many an eye of beauty oft did greet
The painted warriors and their birchen fleet,
As they returned with trophies of the slain.
That race hath passed away: their fair retreat
In its primeval loneness smiles again,
Save where some vessel breaks the isle-enwoven chain;
Startles the wild duck from some shallow nook,
Or the swift hounds’ deep baying as they run
Rouses the lounging student from his book;
Or where, assembled by some sedgy brook,
A picnic party, resting in the shade,
Springs forward hastily to catch a look
At the strong steamer, through the watery glade
Ploughing like a huge serpent from its ambuscade.