The beautiful Rippling Maxinkuckee  

Amid fair Indiana's verdent hills,
Supplied by crystal springs and sparkiling rills,
There sleeps a lake, a gem of emerald hue
Whose Face reflects the sky's ethereal blue.
Along its shore, around its crystal deep,
Tall oaks, grim sentinels, their vigils keep.
Here, far from men's tum ultuous haunts, at rest
Gleams Maxinkuckee'e placid, dimpled breast.

O, lovely spot, whose tranquil beauty lends
To human hearts its Sabbath peace and sends
New life though every frame that breathes the air.
Or seeks upon thy shore surcease of care.
'Tis lovely when the skylark soars to meet
The rosy gleam of morn and with his song to greet
The god of day, whose flood of golden light
Dispels the shades, but leaves the hush at night.

'Tis varied follage along its side
Casts its reflection in the waters cleas
And rears a phantom landscape in the mere.
'Tis lovely when at eve pale Luna's ray
Is struggling with the light of day;
When from yon cliff the whippoorwill's sad note
Falls on the wave and with the breeze doth float.

Here childhood sports through all the summer day
Along these shores secure from evil's way;
Here youth, as o'er the moonlit deep they sail,
May breathe in softest accents love's sweet tale.
Here busy prime may taste the fragrant air
And on the wave forgot all toil and care,
And ripened age, life's vanities reigned.
Sweet peace and comfort on these shores may find.

George H. Taylor
Terre Haute