Poetry by Estelle Mildred Knapp

Moonlight on Lake Maxinkuckee
by Estella Mildred knapp

The winds coarols a low good-night,
Our way we take
Across the lake,
'Midst mist and moonbeam's light,

In moonlight mist there's magic,
Like a runic story
With its weird glory
It seems so strange and tragic.

Dreamily thro' waves we're faring,
Like bird unbound,
Our boat hath found
Course towar light hat's glariing.

Where lambent flashes are flaming
From lamp hung low
On te dock below,
The Signal of home proclaiming. Arlington, Culver Ind - Jul 18 1907

The Lillies of Lost Lake

O'ver Lost Lake the down light floods
Above a waking world of flowers;
The shadows of of the summer woods
Reflect in depths like fair bowers

The white cups of lilies brim
The surface of the lake
With heart of old, with jeweled rim.
Each flower sculpture's splendors take.

Mid ripples by the breezes borne
Like censers they softly sway and swing.
Adding to the glory of the morn,
And lveliness to Lost Lake brin.

Estelle Mildred Knapp
Arlington, Culver, Indiana Aug 15, 1907

Lake Maxinkuckee
(dedicated to H. E. Lutts)

This blue and shinning lake,
SPring's sunlight o'ver it lies
Anglers now their rods will take
Home minnow and some flies

And soon begin long yans to fake
To all the listening guys,
Fishes large ones lost on lake
You must believe without surprise

When evening draweth nigh,
And at dock line anchored dory
None must too keenly eye

SUnfish perch and red-eye,
Adorneth no fish story;
Of such theur yarns are shy
Anglers must have more glory

May 31 1912, South Bend Tribune

At Lake Maxinkuckee

I "Write me a poem, let the theme be Autum at Lake Maxinkuckee. To me autum has ever seemed the most beautiful and pleasant of the year at the lake".

This request was made by Anthony J. Knwpp.

This poem was written for him two weeks before he died.

It is now inscribed to his many friends who in other years enjoyed the autumn months with him there - E. M. K.
Beaneath unseen hands I see
Autumn tracin skillfully.
, Here I learn how mystic ways,
Signs and symbols of the days

This is truly autumn's love,
The dragon fly keeps close to shore,
A floating web the spider weaves,
Each day a rein of fallingfalling leaves

Downward to their chilly bed
The water lilies all have fled.
Brown seeads fly from every pod,
Dying lies the golden rod.

When the grass grows dry and chill,
Crickers cease theri songs so shrill,
In the shallows col dand clear
Whining unknown and perch appear.

The Whippro-will no more comes nigh
At edge of eve with plaintive cry.
Marshly sounds the autumnal lay.
Of Indiana's bright blue jay

The water rat among the reeds
Is gathering for his winter needs
Rice hens dive to depths below
For toots that 'neath the water grow

This wreaths of whit mist lie
Twixt the lake and morning sky,
O'er the san hills brown and bold
The sun dips quicker than of old,

Autumn too has many a sign
Told in story, tied with line,
For over the lake there steals
The locl of a hundred reels.
Nov 10, 1914 - South Bend tribune (Indiana)