I looked across the water, I bent o'er it and listened, I thought it was my lover, My true lover's paddle glistened. Joyous thus his light canoe would the silver ripples wake. -- But no! -- it is the loon alone -- the loon upon the lake. Ah me! it is the loon alone -- the loon upon the lake. I see the fallen maple Where he stood, his red scarf waving, Though waters nearly bury Boughs they then were newly laving. I hear his last farewell, as it echoed from the brake. -- But no, it is the loon alone -- the loon upon the lake, Ah me! it is the loon alone -- the loon upon the lake. |