"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 brood ;
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 gnarl'd 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 !