Obadiah Cyrus Auringer (1849–1937)

WE sat upon the shore, my friend and I;

The lake lay rocking in the morning shine,

Odors of gum were round us, and a pine

Played music while the waves danced, ceaselessly.

Joy of wild woods and waters and blue sky

Flowed through our spirits like celestial wine;

We talked of poets’ hopes and thoughts divine,

And he was generous and I was shy.

O golden heart of all that golden day,

Wise friend! so kind to my reluctant thought;

So gentle with the grace that went astray

Through stammering speech and woodland ways untaught!

He read me by the things I dared not say,

And loved me for the trust that doubted naught.