Lake Maggoire: A Poem

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218 IMPROVEMENT ERA

has saved institutions for his people by the mere exercise of this quality in the face of circumstances that would deter almost any other man. And even where this power has been called to use apparently for his own advantage, the underlying motive has been generally altruistic. He learned to sing, not, as would seem, to show that he could learn to sing, but rather because he could thereby better get over his message to an audience when he preached, and to teach others who thought they could not sing to learn to do so. And he has turned this quality to uses which will doubtless never be known except to himself and those whom his efforts have blessed. Said a man to me not long since, "Heber J. Grant has done more to relive distress in individuals and institutions in this community than any other man in the Church, and thus he has endeared himself to tens of thousands of men and women who will bless his name as long as they live."

Lake Maggoire

O Lake Maggoire, shore of youthful dreams, How fair at eve and tranquil are thy scenes! On thy wide bosom speeds our white-sailed boatOf other days we dream, while thus we float. And longings we remember born one day, 'Twas in another land now far away When we in vision looked upon thy shore So long ago they seem those days of yore.

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LAKE MAGGOIRE 249

A lapse of years, a love, a sob, a sigh, A wedding day, and by a grave, "good-bye;" And sunsets came, for sunsets come and go, And storm-days came where angry storm-winds blow.

And still we dreamed of Italy's blue skies, Maggoire there, a glimpse of Paradise; We heard the sea's bewitching, low refrain — Revives the vision, all our hopes regain!

Now we, whose dream of old has all come true, Are sailing in Maggoire's waters blue. With wond'ring eyes we gaze upon the scene; 'Tis e'en more beautiful than was our dream.

White castles peep from ev'iy leafy crest A lone bird twitters from its leafy nest And Lake Maggoire we at last behold Asleep 'neath summer skies all flecked with gold.

Our dream is realized, and even more We but imagined this in days of yore Now we behold, lo! in our hearts a sigh, For we must part, Maggoire — say "good-bye." But mem'ry will this fair scene bring to mind, White-cushioned boat and sail set to the wind, With wistful eyes and understanding gaze We'll backward look on these dear, care-free days.

And friends who shared that boat-ride were a part Wished that its charm be voiced within my heart. Oh, may this story sweet remembrance bring, Maggoire's magic spell, thy love-song sing. Lydia D. Alder.

(Read before the first gathering of the Utahns who attended the Quinquennial Congress of 1914, in Rome.)