Heinrich Leuthold (1827–1879)

HOW beautiful thou art, O deep, blue lake!

The gentle west wind hesitates to blow,

The timid lily only dares to break

Thy placid mirror with its flower of snow.

And here no anglers rude thy depth desire,

No boats upon thy water’s peace intrude,

And like an anthem sung by nature’s choir,

The forest murmurs through this solitude.

Wild roses strew the incense of the wood

And fragrant pines that gird thee, proud and high,

As if, like pillars of a church, they stood

To bear the dome of blue and cloudless sky.

Ah, once I knew a soul, so calm and grave,

Locked from the world with seals—the seals were seven—

Like thee, so lucid, deep, without a wave,

Created but, like thee, to mirror heaven.