"The Legend of Watch Hill"
[As appeared in Seaside Topics, 1921]
"More than sixty years ago some unknown poet wrote in verse of the legend of Watch Hill. The verses were published then, and have from time to time reappeared in print, but it is now quite a number of years since their first appearance, so they are given here for our readers of today to enjoy."
In dreamy, careless mood, I stroll
Beneath Watch Hill, and note the roar
Of swelling, crested waves that roll
And break in foam-wreaths on the shore.
With half-closed eyes I idly view
The sails expanding in the breeze,
And in the distant, hazy blue,
The level isle of Manisse.
And now the accents of my friends,
In grave tones, sound like bells that chime
At twilight, very far away,
Some tune we loved in olden time.
A story of the long ago,
That grave, sweet voice repeats to me;
A story colored dark with woe,
And dirge-like as the wind-tossed sea.
Before the white man's hand had set
The beacon light upon the hill,
With raven hair, and eyes like jet,
A maiden sat there lone and still.
Her lover's light canoe had gone
Beyond the isle of Manisses;
She comes to watch for him at dawn,
She stays till blows the evening breeze.
And every day she watches true;
But nowhere o'er the waters vast
Glides back again the swift canoe;
Though some so like the lover's passed
They raised her expectations high;
Hope fell again; and from a tree
Came forth the mourning dove's low cry;
She sighed and gazed across the sea.
And day by day her eyes grew dim,
And day by day her cheeks turned pale;
And sometimes she would sing to him,
Ending the song with plaintive wail.
At length the maiden came no more,
but sadly closed her eyes in death;
And those who tell the story o'er
Add, in solemn under-breath:
That "thus the name Watch Hill was given".
The story told, through tears I see
The lighthouse reaching high towards Heaven,
And sunbeams smiling through a tree;
But in the ocean's plaintive roar
I fancy I can hear the cry
Of one who died upon the shore
And one at sea, with no one nigh.