THE bleak wind sighs thro' the leafless trees Like a spirit's wail, and the white snow-flake Drifts silently down with the fitful breeze On the lonely camp at Silver Lake. Yet the ruddy glow of our camp-fire bright, Not long ago, when the fall was young, Illumined the gathering shades of night, And the forest rang with the songs we sung. But the song is hushed, and the merry jest Is heard no more, when the shadows fall; For gone is each well-remembered guest, And the snow like a mantle covereth all. Full oft, while the bright September moon Beamed down, did the startled camp awake From its slumbers deep, as the wizard loon Pealed its wild cry from the neighboring lake. But the loon has taken his airy flight, And far away neath the southern cloud He rests his wings, while the Frost King's might, Has wrapped the lake in an icy shroud. No longer our light bark ploughs the wave, No longer we tempt the treacherous flood, No sentinels watch o'er the old camp, save The guardian genii of the wood. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...I'VE NEVER SEEN SUCH A REAL HARD TIME BEFORE' by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE SINGER OF ONE SONG by HENRY AUGUSTIN BEERS THE LISTENERS by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE TO THE REV. F.D. MAURICE by ALFRED TENNYSON THE MYSTIC TRUMPETER by WALT WHITMAN SONG OF YOUTH by LULU PIPER AIKEN |