I.

Swim, Amohia, swim!—with strong swift grace she swims
Lightly in silence cleaves the pathway smooth.
The water's gurgle from her waving limbs,
Only its ripple from her flexile limbs—
Seems less to break than gently soothe
The hush of solemn Silence as she swiftly swims.

And now the cooling lymph more calmly breasting,
She comes upon some wild-fowl resting:
And as soft plashing she intrudes
Into their glassy open home so wide,
And feels the solemn still impress
Of sweetly-sheltering loneliness—
"Safe in their gleaming solitudes "
She sighs, "each bird with what it loves allied!
How well doth for his trusting broods
The Spirit of the Lake provide!"
With startled glance their heads they raise,
One movement quick from side to side.
Then far into the dimness sail
With shrill wild cry and dripping trail.
page 168 As each into the still air dashes,
Its level-flapping wing-tips make
Upon the else unruffled Lake
A double row of silver splashes
Spurting a moment in its wake.
She smiles: "Ah, had I wings like you,
Could be so soon love-nestled too!
Dread Spirit! help me too as well,
Whom no irreverent thoughts compel
Unwillingly to break the spell
Of Silence lone wherein you dwell!"