Page 75 - 1923 Hartridge
P. 75
Prize Poem
Tlie Lake of Clouds
1
Far below me in the mountain valley, Bathed hy the light of a summer’s moon,
Lies the far-famed cloud-lake.
A lake of feathery mist, stretching itself like
A sheet of silver across the Helds and low rolling hills.
It rests upon the house tops of a peaceful, sleeping town;
It ripples and sparkles with dancing moonbeams.
Which play upon its surface like frosty stars dropt from a winter’s heaven.
II
N ow the cloud-lake slowly lifts and I can see the tree-tops and the house-tops
Appear, here and there, like tiny islands adrift on a misty sea. d'he lights of the village pierce its whiteness, only
To fade into obscurity again under the moon’s brilliance.
More islands—and still more—
And now it has lifted, this cloud-lake, that lately
Lit the valley with it radiance;
And in its place the valley, dark and mysterious,
Li es cold and unresponsive at the foot of the lofty mountains.
Page 60
M.‘
jokie Harrison, ’23.
