Lake Superior

“father of lakes!” thy waters bend   Beyond the eagle’s utmost view, When, throned in heaven, he sees thee send   Back to the sky its world of blue. Boundless and deep, the forests weave   Their twilight shade thy borders o’er, And threatening cliffs, like giants, heave   Their rugged forms along thy shore. Pale silence, mid thy hollow caves,   With listening ear, in sadness broods; Or startled echo, o’er thy waves,   Sends the hoarse wolf-notes of thy woods. Nor can the light canoes, that glide   Across thy breast like things of air, Chase from thy lone and level tide   The spell of stillness deepening there. Yet round this waste of wood and wave,   Unheard, unseen, a spirit lives, That, breathing o’er each rock and cave,   To all a wild, strange aspect gives. The thunder-riven oak, that flings   Its grisly arms athwart the sky, A sudden, startling image brings   To the lone traveller’s kindled eye. The gnarled and braided boughs, that show   Their dim forms in the forest shade, Like wrestling serpents seem, and throw   Fantastic horrors through the glade. The very echoes round this shore   Have caught a strange and gibbering tone; For they have told the war-whoop o’er,   Till the wild chorus is their own. Wave of the wilderness, adieu!   Adieu, ye rocks, ye wilds, ye woods! Roll on, thou element of blue,   And fill these awful solitudes! Thou hast no tale to tell of man;   God is thy theme. Ye sounding caves, Whisper of him whose mighty plan   Deems as a bubble all your waves!