The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1860-04-13
Lake shore lseve les.

W z nave Itdu 0iON NIX bCS'i iPtioho VI
Italian sunsets, mild, ETHEREAL, dreamy twi-
lights, when the stars come out one by
one, with their soft and spirit like light,
till the rising moon cast her silver glory
over all, and dimmed the glamour of ia
ding twilight and twinkling stars" We
have read of such scenes, but they have
always been afar off, in distant lands, and
perhaps it was distance that silent en-
chantment to the descriptions. But we
need not 90 to Italy for the reality of the
poets dream. The evenings we have
been having for the past week or two
would shame the fairest Italian ideal.
We are sitting on the bank overlooking
the broad waters of Lake Michigan. The
discordant noises of the busy town are dy
ing away-the distant hum of voices is
being hushed. The last golden flush is
dying from the western sky, and the stars
are coming, coming like spirit lamps set
on high to light a weary world TO rest and
repose. At our feet the waveIets lazily
chase each other over the shining sand,
with ceaseless murmur of delight. A
cooling breath comes over the waters, and
layes our barred brow, soft as the zephyrs
of elvsian bowers. We feel it on our
cheek grateful and soothing as mothers
kiss. Anon the full Orbed moon comes
up out of the waters, like Venus from the
fabled foam. A long pathway of light
streams over the Lake like a pathway OF
silver studded with briIIiants, reaching to
the far off portals of heaven.
The mild ETHEREAL twilight has faded out
in the western skv, and the moonlight like
silver mantle, falls dimly and dreamly
over the baIf misty waters and the silent
land. The murmur of the ripples on he
beach grows more distinct, as other voices
moro real. Dis away. The cool breath o.
the lake is on our brow. The time, the
place the scene, have wrought spell, and
the real is fitting from our ken. Voices
from the past mingle with the murmur o!
the waters, and dim forms from the unseen
world are coming on that pathway of light
tripping airly on those glinting waveIets
Back to the past, through long years. with
our boyhood's hopes and boyhood's fears
we are carried. q r." -. l,h@ -..h"A- 81
far-otf music comes the wellremembered
tones of voices hushed forage. They sang
TO US in childhood-soothed our fretful
spirit to rest-praised us for our good
deeds, and chided us, but 0. so lovingly, for
cur evil ones. Bright young faces, with
clustering curs that shaded sunny brows
faces that reposed for while on the
same loving bosom. then went
cover the river. the mystic river"
are around u.s. We feel the touch Of the
soft young hands, that carressed us-listen
to the whispered voices. The vision fades
away, and memory's freighte bark floats
down the stream of time.
Another scene is around us. The ia
miliar group is lessened. The best loved
tones are heard no more in the household
council-one form revered, is no longer il
It's accustomed place. Death has beer
there, and the magic circle is broken
Time with busy hand has been loosening
the home-tes. and the home circle is scat
tered never 20 be reunited on the shores O
time Oh. faithful memory, hold thy
magic glass little longer there. The pic
ture is a sad one, yet full Of attractions.-
Heats, whose longings but late all center
ed in and clustered around the old hearth
stone, have been touched with the wanc
of the world. Separate ambitions ano
separate hopes are sprung up, where be
! fore all was in common. Henceforth the
life paths of brothers and sisters diverge tt
come together again only in the valley
! of Death"
The moonlight shimmers on the waters
still, but VAIN soft hand with magic
touch has dispeIled the dream of the past
and the present is all before us. The sof
moonlight falls on the white sails of pass
ing vessel, away out on the lake, and par
italy reveals the hstess crew. loungng OF
the rails and enjoying the beauties Of the
night, Reader, If you have scrap of po
etry in your ma ure go and indulge In :
revery, on one of these "caIm still nights,
on the Lake Shore-Kenosha Times.