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The workmanship of Nature's hand
The glamour soft of fairy land
No rarer gem than this has shown
Upon this luring realm is thrown
In power, in stateliness and pride,
As on and ever on they glide
Majestic ships the waters brave,
To crown with sail the Huron's wave
On boulder vast and current swift
While in a dreary calm I drift
Shore, isle and stream to lake deliver
The first gleams of the morning quiver
The devious lines of tree-clad shore
And flashing waters onward pour
To shapes of wondrous grace are bent
With thickly verdured isles besprent
The matin glow, the noontide blaze
The peace of old Arcadian days
--adapted from “St. Mary’s River” by John M. Talman
in _Along the Bowstring, or South Shore of Lake Superior_, by Julian Ralph, 1891, pg. 73
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The nights that I spent upon the shore of the great northern lake have made a deeper impression upon my heart than those summer days. Never before had the ocean of the sky and the starry world appeared so supremely brilliant. Seldom would my restless spirit allow me an unbroken slumber from nightfall until dawn, and I was often in a wakeful mood, even after the camp fires were entirely out, and my rude companions were in the embrace of slumber. One of those wonderful nights I can never forget. I had risen from my couch upon the sand, and after walking nearly half a mile along the beach, I passed a certain point, and found myself in full view of the following scene, of which I was the solitary spectator. Black, and death-like in its repose, was the apparently illimitable plain of water; above its outline, on the left, were the strangely beautiful northern lights, shooting their rays to the very zenith; on the right was a clear full moon, making a silvery pathway from my feet to the horizon; and before, around, and above me, floating in the deep cerulean, were the unnumbered stars--the jewels of the Most High. The only sound that fell upon my ear was the occasional splash of a tiny wave, as it melted upon the shore. Long and intently did I gaze upon the scene, until, in a kind of blissful frenzy, or bewilderment, I staggered a few paces, fell upon the earth, almost insensible, and was soon in a deep sleep. The first gleam of sunshine roused me from my slumber, and I returned to our encampment perfectly well in body, but in a thoughtful and unhappy mood. In fact, it seemed to me that I had visited the spiritual world, and I wished to return hence once more.
--from _A Summer in the Wilderness, Embracing a Canoe Voyage Up the Mississippi and Around Lake Superior_, by Charles Lanman (1847), pgs. 150-151.
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Aught-five storms crush northern Twin Ports
Old Mataafa stranded aborts
Mate Madeira dies in his craft
Frozen sailors trapped in the aft
’13 fury rolls in disguise
Fifty and two hundred demise
Leafield, S.S. Smith and Plymouth
Every sailor lost from their ships
Huron claimed the largest numbers
Wexford, Hydrus, Scott, Carruthers
Argus, Price, McGean and others
Husbands, fathers, uncles, brothers
‘vember tenth we’ll all remember
tragedy claimed nine and twenty
Mighty Fitz without her radar
Whitefish Point forever lies there
Freezing
Graveyard
In Northern Lake
Know sailors wise
What falls below
May never rise
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4. |
Navigating Death's Door
06:26
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5. |
Through the Storm
08:06
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