Lake Louise

Isabel Ecclestone Mackay

I THINK that when the Master Jeweler tells
  His beads of beauty over, seeking there
  One gem to name as most supremely fair,
To you He turns, O lake of hidden wells!

So very lovely are you, Lake Louise,
  The stars which crown your lifted peaks at even
  Mistake you for a little sea in heaven
And nightly launch their shining argosies.

From shore to dim-lit shore a ripple slips,
  The happy sigh of faintly stirring night
  Where safe she sleeps upon this virgin height
Captive of dream and smiling with white lips.

Surely a spell, creation-old, was made
  For you, O lake of silences, that all
  Earth's fretting voices here should muted fall,
As if a finger on their lips were laid!