BRIGHT Lake of Thun! thou hast the power to woo
My soul to silence with thy wavering show
Of mead and mountain, and thy ebb and flow,
The heavings of thy heart so deep and true.
I love thee, for I am a mirror too:
The universe is glassed upon my soul,
Which trembles like thy wave, beneath the whole
Vast pageant, with God's glory shining through.

Glass of those Alpine summits which receive
The dawn's first kiss, which blind with light at noon,
And catch the sun's last burning word at eve,—
If haply thou couldst drop me as a boon
Some secret of the sun, some word to weave
Into my trembling silence—Lake of Thun!