Charles Henry Lüders (1858–1891)

TO stand within a gently gliding boat,

Urged by a noiseless paddle at the stern,

Whipping the crystal mirror of the fern

In fairy bays where water-lilies float;

To hear your reel’s whirr echoed by the throat

Of a wild mocking-bird, or round some turn

To chance upon a wood-duck’s brood that churn

Swift passage toward their mother’s warning note:—

This is to rule a realm that nevermore

May aught but restful weariness invade;

This is to live again the old days o’er,

When nymph and dryad haunted stream and glade;

To dream sweet, idle dreams of having strayed

To Arcady, with all its golden lore.