Burlington Free Press

LAKE MEMPHREMAGOG.

The sun has sunk behind the mountain range
That skirts the placid waters of the lake;
Its golden beams have shunned the glassy face
Of beauteous Memphremagog, but they still
Brighten the summits of the lofty peaks
That stand majestic, frowning o'er the deep
Still element that laves their shadowed base.

The rich and varied forest lies in shade
Upon the mountain's slope, and the fair Lake
Sleeps in umbrageous waste beneath the hills.
The watery plain is checkered here and there
By a bright streak of silvery hue: but these
Are evanescent, and like meteors move
In softness o'er the expanse of waters.

Lulled
By the soft spell of pensive twilight. all
Is hushed: and Nature sleeps, on lake and land.
Profoundly silent: save where the echo
In the distant hills, responds with magic
To the woodman's axe-the only note
That speaks of man upon these distant shores.

Pale, but beautiful, on high, the moon--
The slender crescent of a recent birth-
Floats in the azure of the vaulted sky;
The purpling west now brightens into gold,
And now its hue to brighter crimson turns;
And all seems magic-Mountain, Lake and Sky-
A stilly scene, unutterably fair.

Touched by the master-hand of Nature's God,
The painter and the architect of all!

R. S. M. B.