On the Lake.

There's a beautiful lake where the sun lies low,
And the skies are warm with their summer glow;
And a beautiful picture there I see
Where the winds are warm and the waves are free,
    And the waves lie still in the sun
As the flowers at night, when the day is done.

You may sing of your silvery seas by night
When the moon looks down with a dreamy light;
And the stars shine out in the skies above
Like the warm sweet gaze of the eyes of love;
    But the glow on the lake to-day
Is a glory that never will fade away.

The beautiful lake is a sea of gold
And the beauty it wears will never grow old;
The trees bend down in the sun's warm glow
Till their branches meet in the waves below,
    And the clouds in the far-off skies
Are mirrored anew where the sunlight lies.

I love to float where the shadows lie
'Neath the matchless glow of the summer sky;
And I love to dream that these waves of light
Will never fade in the gloomy night:
    But I know that the things I love
Are as far from my reach as the clouds above.

Oh, the beautiful lake is a sea of gold
And the beauty it wears will never grow old;
The cloudlets of Heaven are mirrored there
In a golden splendor so bright and fair
    That the soul is dazzled for aye
By the beautiful light of this summer's day.

Oh, I love to dream when this life is o'er
We shall moor our boats near the golden shore;
And our sorrows shall drift from us far away
As the leaves that float in their idle play,
    And the waves shall smile in the sun
When the night is over and life is done.

Fannie Isabelle Sherrick

Fannie Isabelle Sherrick was an American poet of the 19th century. Not much is known about her early life, but her poetry was well-regarded and she became known for her emotional and heartfelt verses. She contributed to various periodicals and was part of the literary scene of her time. Her works often focused on themes of love, nature, and the human experience. Despite her contributions, detailed biographical information about Sherrick remains sparse.

Fannie Isabelle Sherrick

To Longfellow.

Fannie Isabelle Sherrick, Simple Poetry

Two Pictures.

Fannie Isabelle Sherrick, Simple Poetry

May.

Fannie Isabelle Sherrick, Simple Poetry

A Shell.

Fannie Isabelle Sherrick, Simple Poetry

English

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The Lake.

A limpid lake, a diamond gem,
    The moonbeams kissed with light;
And all the stars that heaven knew
    Were mirrored in the night.

How fair the world, how fair the night,
    When lake and river run
Like jeweled streams of fairy land
    Beneath a silver sun.

The lake grew proud and claimed each star
    That lay upon her breast;
"Ah! they are mine," she said; "these gems
    That in my bosom rest.

"And yonder moon, that sails on high,
    Doth shine for me alone;
Beneath the foam that crests my waves
    Is built her silver throne."

A star-king knelt and kissed the waves
    That swept the shadowed shore;
"Our moon is queen of heaven," he said,
    "Is queen forevermore.

A thousand lakes are hers by night,<...

Fannie Isabelle Sherrick

Sunset on the Mississippi.

O beautiful hills in the purple light,
    That shadow the western sky,
I dream of you oft in the silent night,
    As the golden days go by.

The river that flows at my longing feet
    Is tinged with a deeper glow;
But the song that it sings is as sad to-day
    As it was in the long ago.

The far-off clouds in the far-off sky
    Are tinted with gold and red;
But the lesson they tell to the hearts of men
    Is a lesson that never is said.

The star-crowned night in her sable plumes
    Is veiling the eastern sky,
And she trails her robes in the dying fires
    That far in the west do lie.

A single gem from her circlet old
    Is lost as she wanders by,
And the beautiful star with its golden light
    Shines out in the lo...

Fannie Isabelle Sherrick

Under the Sea.

Under the sea, the great wide sea
    That sweeps the golden shore;
What treasures lie beneath the waves
    Forevermore!

Ask of the winds, the sobbing winds
    That toss the waves on high;
And fling the burden of their song
    Unto the sky.

Ask of the stars, the jeweled stars
    That sleep within the tide;
Like golden lilies floating far,
    And swinging wide.

Ask of the clouds that drift at noon
    In fadeless seas of blue,
And looking down see skies beneath
    Of deeper hue.

Up in the sky, the golden clouds
    Will never make reply;
Deep in the sea, the jeweled stars
    In silence lie.

Under the sea, the great wide sea
    That sweeps the golden shore,
Are secrets hidden from us now
  ...

Fannie Isabelle Sherrick

Tower Grove.

Oh tell me not of the lands so old
Where the Orient treasures its hills of gold,
And the rivers lie in the sun's bright rays
Forever singing the old world's praise.
Nor proudly boast of the gardens grand
That spring to earth at a king's command;
There are treasures here in the far great West
That rival the hills on the Orient's crest.

Far from the sight of the dusty town
Like a perfect gem in a golden crown,
Lies a beautiful garden vast and fair,
Where the wild birds sing in the evening air,
And the dews fall down in a silent shower
On the fragrant head of each beaming flower;
While far and near o'er the land sun-kissed,
Hangs the roseate veil of the sunset mist.

Under the shade of the western wall
There's a glimmer of roses fair and tall,

Fannie Isabelle Sherrick

Life.

A dewy flower, bathed in crimson light,
May touch the soul--a pure and beauteous sight;
A golden river flashing 'neath the sun,
May reach the spot where life's dark waters run;
Yet, when the sun is gone, the splendor dies,
With drooping head the tender flower lies.
And such is life; a golden mist of light,
A tangled web that glitters in the sun;
When shadows come, the glory takes its flight,
The treads are dark and worn, and life is done.
Oh! tears, that chill us like the dews of eve,
Why come unbid--why should we ever grieve?
Why is it, though life hath its leaves of gold,
The book each day some sorrow must unfold!
What human heart with truth can dare to say
No grief is mine--this is a perfect day?
Oh! poet, take your harp of gold and sing,
And all the e...

Fannie Isabelle Sherrick

The Mississippi.

Where is the bard, O river grand and old,
That has thy praises sung, thy beauties told,
In measures lofty as the mighty pride
That lingers in thy deep and flowing tide?
And where the echoing measures low and sweet
That should thine own faint rippling songs repeat?

The eyes of nature ever turned on thee
Watch o'er thy restless wandering to the sea;
The rosy morn awakes thee from thy sleep;
Along thy dusky waves her glances creep,
And o'er the weird dark shadows of the night
She spreads her sunny robes of morning light.

The yellow noon comes too, with fiery eyes,
And all unwept the dewy morning dies;
Thy waters run in waves of rippling gold,
And all the rivers sacred deemed of old
Are not so grand as thee, nor yet so fair.
Amid the mists that fi...

Fannie Isabelle Sherrick