Lake Louise

I THINK that when the Master Jeweler tells His beads of beauty over, seeking there One gem to name as most supremely fair, To you He turns, O lake of hidden wells!

So very lovely are you, Lake Louise, The stars which crown your lifted peaks at even Mistake you for a little sea in heaven And nightly launch their shining argosies.

From shore to dim-lit shore a ripple slips, The happy sigh of faintly stirring night Where safe she sleeps upon this virgin height Captive of dream and smiling with white lips.

Surely a spell, creation-old, was made For you, O lake of silences, that all Earth's fretting voices here should muted fall, As if a finger on their lips were laid!