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CSMP OSSIPEE. 
 
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 BY RALPH H. SHAW. 
 
 TO HIS COMPANION, O. W. R. 
 
 LOWELL, MASS. 
 
 PRESS OP C. F. HATCH & CO.. 
 
 1888. 
 
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 Copyright, 1888, by R. H. Shaw. 
 
CAMP OSSIPEE. 
 
 'Twas in the mellow light that falls 
 At sunset on the mountain-walls ; 
 When far and near at times is heard 
 The warble of the sunset bird, 
 And in the hush that deepens round 
 The very soul of peace is found ; 
 Where far below us Melvin Baj' 
 Couching itself for slumber lay, 
 And over us some pine-boughs bent,— 
 That, travel-worn, we pitched our tent. 
 Ah ! 'twas a restful sight to see 
 The wooded heights of Ossipee 
 Rise round us in eternal green. 
 That softer seemed at sunset seen ; 
 For we had come that self-same day 
 O'er glistening miles of iron way. 
 And borne the dust of many a road 
 That in the sun of August glowed. 
 There in that peaceful hour of rest, 
 Which rock and tree alike confessed. 
 
Cawp Ossipee. 
 
 The pine-boughs seemed above our head 
 In blessing and in healing spread, 
 Making us feel— who felt indeed — 
 That Nature understood our need. 
 
 At length the moon rose, far and near 
 We saw its tender light appear ; 
 Now flaring from the mountain lines. 
 Now falling through their fringing pines, 
 And now expanding far and wide— 
 A whelming yet a gentle tide. 
 Then like a brooch of silver lay, 
 In its dim setting, Melvin Bay, 
 Seeming, in our ecstatic sight, 
 Upon the very breast of Night. 
 At length all things about us slept, 
 Save that the owl his vigils kept. 
 We felt the mightj^ forest breathe 
 The light touch of the dew beneath, 
 And minded that if we would rise 
 What time the morning tints the skies, 
 We should unto our couch repair. 
 We turned our wandering steps to where 
 Our tent looked like a mountain-mist, 
 White-sheeted, bj' the moonlight kissed. 
 
Camp Ossipee. 
 
 Next morning— when the sun had shone 
 An hour or so our landscape on!— 
 We saw, forth-looking from our tent, 
 With feelings of some wonderment. 
 To whom the splendid sunset hour 
 Had something had of glamour power, 
 How far our credulous eyes had been 
 Deceived the shaping moonlight in. 
 Still for the light that showed the fact, 
 Our view to charm us nothing lacked. 
 Too far away for us to see 
 One sign of its activity, 
 The little thorp below us lay 
 Reposeful by its sunlit bay 
 As if alike were night and day. 
 We only saw its houses small 
 And steeple overlooking all, 
 And vanes that ever and anon 
 Focused the light that on them shone. 
 
 We broke our fast betimes, and took 
 Our fishing-tackle to the brook, 
 With good old Izaak Walton's book- 
 Not that we thought our luck would be 
 The better for its company, 
 
Camp Ossipee. 
 
 Too obsolete in many ways 
 
 To guide a fisher nowadays, 
 
 But leading still to that calm mood 
 
 Wherein to fish is meet and good. 
 
 My friend— and no one more than he 
 
 ;Snjoys its quaint simplicity — 
 
 Had read it often, looking down 
 
 Upon a noisy thoroughfare, 
 
 From his high window-seat in town, 
 
 Yet always seeming otherwhere — 
 
 Some mountain pool pine-shadowed by 
 
 Or meadow brook with breast of sky — 
 
 Receiving from it what is best 
 
 Within its g^ft, relief and rest. 
 
 Ah ! you shouldhave that wild brook traced 
 With so much varied beauty graced ; 
 So rugged yet so fair, so wild 
 And yet so lovelj' — Nature's child. 
 A child whose days are full of song, 
 Whose feet disport its way along, 
 Who unto all its spirit gives, 
 And loved of all who see it, lives. 
 And so at first it seemed to be 
 A thing of life, to hear and see ; 
 
Camp Ossipee. 
 
 To hear itself the song it sung, 
 To see the woods it moved among, 
 To have a subtler sense than we 
 Of all that we could hear and see. 
 But after all it was a brook, 
 And into it we cast our hook. 
 
 We fished from pool to pool, and thought 
 Of what our honest master taught, — 
 That much of hope and patience need 
 All fishers if they would succeed. 
 But, mark you ! not without reward 
 We bore our fishing-line and rod, 
 Who out of hope and patience caught 
 More fish indeed than we had sought. 
 Ah! even with us seemed to be 
 That man of " heavenly memory," 
 Who "with his Bryan and a book, 
 Loitered long days near Shawford-b rook," 
 In pleasant discourse, wherein we 
 His singleness of heart could see, 
 Inviting us to love the good, 
 The meek and quiet habitude, 
 To seek not more than competence, 
 And thank God for his providence. 
 
Cavip Ossipee. 
 
 Our fishing done, our sweet meal o'er, 
 We sat beside our tent's free door. 
 The hour was high noon, and we heard 
 But sound of leaf and song of bird ; 
 No clanging of a factory bell 
 The stopping of the wheels to tell, 
 No footsteps of a swarming throng 
 A hard and dusty walk along. 
 The farther mountains, v.^rapped in haze, 
 Seemed sleeping through the August daj's, 
 And couched in eastern luxury 
 The lake's fair islands seemed to be. 
 We watched, o'er land and wave below. 
 The cloud-cast shadows come and go. 
 Until the very landscape seemed 
 Ivike something indistinctly dreamed. 
 And lower as if farther heard 
 Became the sound of leaf and bird ; 
 For surel}' had a slvimberous power 
 The stillness of that midday hour. 
 
 When long the lights and shadows grew 
 That slanted the cool forest through. 
 And from us with the westering day 
 Our lighter feelings passed away, 
 
Camp Ossipee. 
 
 We sought, as did the hour become, 
 The threshold of a lonely home, 
 A house that sadly seemed to be 
 Devoted to its memorj'. 
 As 'twere in weeded widowhood. 
 How dark amid its field it stood! 
 Far up upon the mountain-side, 
 O'erlooking lake and valley wide, 
 Where hardl}' ever came a sound 
 Save from the sombering pines around. 
 Longer the lights and shadows grew, 
 Cooler the airs as touched with dew. 
 While sat we in that lonely door, 
 Recalling what could be no more,— 
 Tlie tender joys with childliood flown, 
 The hopes by earliest manhood known, 
 The long, wide way, with flowers fair, 
 That ended in the path of care. 
 There came to us the thought that we, 
 As we had been, no more could be ; 
 As nevermore on us could lie 
 The sunlight of our morning sky, 
 So nevermore our lives could feel 
 Their early freedom, early weal. 
 
Cavip Ossipee. 
 
 Much that that house knew, sad and lone, 
 Was by our very bosoms known, 
 And with a sigh of sympathy, 
 We left it to its memory. 
 
 Soon in the vale below we heard 
 The singing of the sunset bird. 
 That in the gathering dusk was glad— 
 For him the hour no sadness had — 
 And casting from our minds the weight 
 Of thoughts we had indulged so late, 
 We gained our tent, wherein we sate 
 In quiet converse till the sound 
 That reached us from the lapsing rills 
 And from the waving woods around, 
 lyulled us to sleep among the hills. 
 
 And so we lived from day to day, 
 "Exempt from public haunt" and way. 
 In lightsome and in pensive thought. 
 In varying moods by Nature wrought. 
 Who learned that she her treasures gives 
 To him who with her cioselj' lives, 
 Who comes, a quiet worshipper. 
 And dares to make his home with her.