Canandaiziia Lake 



27 



Where once the Indian roamed in freedom 

 wild, 



And into ambush oft his foe beguiled, 

 Now farms and villages adorn the plain, 



And trains go laden with the golden grain. 



The bark canoe, urged by the paddle blade, 



Gives place to boat by man more skillful 

 made; 

 Thy placid bosom is by steamship pressed. 



Thy shaly marge by lovely cabins dressed. 

 In shady nooks the restful hammock hangs, 



The patient angler trolls with spoon or 

 gangs ; 

 Thy rolling hills are clad with fruitful vines. 



Whose purple clusters yield delicious wines ; 

 A happy people on thy shores now dwell. 



How much they love thee each alone must 

 tell; 

 For deep affection plays no traitor's part. 



But nestles fondly in the grateful heart; 



May kindly providence, that marks our ways. 



Grant to us all yet many joyous days 

 In tent or cabin on thy pleasant shores, 



With sail unfurled or lightly feathered oars, 

 For with time spent in healthful vigorous play. 



The marks of care from faces pass away ; 

 Old age forgets that time is on the wing, 



When youthful memories fondly round him 

 cling. 



For all thou art to me, O, Generous lake! 



I could of life no happier moment take 

 To pay the tribute of my sincere thanks. 



For hours delightful spent upon thy banks. 

 While life shall last my fondest hopes shall be 



To spend my swift declining years near 

 thee. 

 When time shall end, and all shall pass away, 



May thou be lifted from the bed of clay ; 

 And in the fields of Paradise find space 



To show the lustre of thy shim'ring face. 





^^^&"^ 



Seneca and Vine Cottage Point, Lake Canandaigua. 



