'Neath the gentle breathing breeze,
And the surging shock and shiver
Of the cold and throbbing seas.
Lies a lonely lake revealing
Where the moss-hung hemlocks wreathe
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Softly-tinted fringes stealing
Far the water's face beneath;
Quickened is the pulse of feeling
Till I hear the silence breathe.
Steals a sunset o'er the surges,
Sinking seaward in the west;
From a clinging cloud emerges,
Filmy-blue, a mountain's crest;
And forgotten passion urges
Its sweet riot in my breast.
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