A Dream.

Dedicated to Sandy G.

I dreamed of a lake, deep hid in the woods,
In length it was more than a mile.
I saw it dotted here and there,
By many a small green isle.

I also saw bluffs,
To the shore dropping steep,
Their casting shadows
Making the water look deep.

This lake of which I dreamed had many bays,
In fact an irregular shore.
In which grew rushes, wild rice,
And lily pads galore.

Here and there I saw a rock,
And an occasional log,
So enticing to the angler,
To try with fly or frog.

To hook the wary bass,
No doubt there in wait,
To make its fierce rush,
When he cast out the bait.

A companion I had,
A friend staunch and true,
We each getting pleasure,
From woods and canoe.

On the shore of the lake,
Where in followed a brook,
We had built our log cabin,
In a well shaded nook.

We would pass our time hunting,
Or in casting for fish.
Thus living close to nature,
Nothing more did we wish.

On came the Fall,
The best time of the year.
When we shot many partridge,
And an occasional deer.

As the weather turned colder,
And the ducks took to flight,
We had sport beyond measure,
Each morning and night.

Then when the winter came on,
With snow falling light,
In the hunting of rabbits,
Time took its quick flight.

The weather grew colder.
And the snow it piled high,
With our pipe and our book,
The days they slipped by.

Then I awoke,
And found it a dream,
But surely in dreamland,
Did I live a life supreme.
- Frank Chittenden.