Poem by Emily Jane Pfeiffer

A Ballad of the “Thuner-See”

Soft on the lake's soft bosom we twain
⁠     Float in the haze of a dim delight,
While the wavelets cradle the sleepless brain,
     ⁠And the eyes are glad of the lessening light,
     ⁠And the east with a fading glory is bright —
The lingering smile of a sun that is set —
⁠     And the earth in its tender sorrow is dight,
And the shadow that falleth hath spared us yet!

Oh! the mellow beam of the suns that wane,
⁠     Of the joys, ah me! that are taking flight;
Oh, the sting of a rapture too near to pain,
     ⁠And of love that loveth imdeath's despite!
⁠     But the hour is ours, and its beauty's might
Subdues our souls to a still regret,
     ⁠While the Blumlis-Alp unveils to the night,
And the shadow that falleth hath spared us yet!

Now we set our prow to the land again,
⁠     And our backs to those splendors ghostly white,
But a mirrored star with a watery train
⁠     We hold in our wake as a golden kite;
     ⁠When we near the shore, with its darkening height,
And its darker shade on the waters set,
⁠     Lo! the dim shade fleeth before our sight,
And the shadow that falleth hath spared us yet!

ENVOY.

From the jewelled circles where I indite
     ⁠This song, which my faithless tears make wet,
We trail the light till its jemmed rings smite
⁠     The shadow, — that falleth! and spares us yet.

1. The Soudan
2. In the Riviera
3. Beating the Air
4. To a Fledgling Robin
5. A Plea

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