In the calmness of the evening,
And the hush of eventide,
Near a fire brightly burning,
I can lay my cares aside.
By the Lake of Osceola,
Neath the shining evening star,
Here I find another refuge,
And my thoughts do go afar.
On the waters, calm and tranquil,
Down the hill; upon the lake,
Hear the soft melodic murmur,
From the calling of the drake.
Now the moon is rising upward,
And the stars are shining so,
While the sunset glows in crimson,
And the shadows come and go.
Where is found a nobler calling?
Who can claim a better cause?
Than to watch the twilight falling,
In the comfort of the lodge...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem