Classic Poem

On Crossing Lake Champlain in the Steamboai Phaenix,

Islet on the lake's calm bosom,
In thy breast rich treasures lie;
Heroes! there your bones shall moulder,
But your fame shall never die.

Islet on the lake's calm bosom,
Sleep serenely in thy bed;
Brightest gem our waves can boast,
Guardian angel of the dead!

Calm upon the waves recline,
Till great Nature's reign is o'er;
Until old and swift-winged time
Sinks, and order is no more.

Then thy guardianship shall cease,
Then shall rock thy aged bed;
And when Heaven's last trump shall sound,
Thou shalt yield thy noble dead!