Classic Poem

I looked across the water,
I bent o'er it and listened,
I thought it was my lover,
My true lover's paddle glistened.
Joyous thus his light canoe would the silver ripples wake. —
But no! — it is the loon alone — the loon upon the lake.
Ah me! it is the loon alone — the loon upon the lake.

I see the fallen maple
Where he stood, his red scarf waving,
Though waters nearly bury
Boughs they then were newly laving.
I hear his last farewell, as it echoed from the brake. —
But no, it is the loon alone — the loon upon the lake,
Ah me! it is the loon alone — the loon upon the lake.