Treasure Island, again
It's taken me a few days to pull this out of my memory, but here is a poem about Treasure Island. Note - I did NOT write it. But I figure if I can remember it from over 50 years ago (gulp), it must have some value. I think it eloquently shows the wistful longing we adolescent campers (and maybe you too, at your camp) felt, and believed, about the magical world we lived in for those 2 months - - -
Treasure Island grew here when the world was still quite young;
God carved it with His glacier, and set it in the sun.
He poured out lake around it, and sheltered it with care,
Then covered it with rocks and trees to make it green and fair.
But when this work was finished, God couldn’t leave it so -
His masterpiece of beauty, and no one here to know.
He thought of all the centuries it would stand here all alone,
So He gave it a loving spirit, just for its very own.
And down through all the ages, this spirit has guarded our isle,
And the beauty of all she’s seen here is reflected in her smile.
She remembers the sweetness of springtime, the feel of the south winds warm,
The cold of a thousand winters, and the power of a storm.
All these are remembered, and these she will tell to you
If you just sit and listen, and let her voice come through.
If ever you want to hear her, just listen to the breeze,
As it whispers of the days gone by among the old pine trees
Or sit at night by your campfire, when the embers have burned down low,
And she will tell of other nights, and their Indian fires’ glow.
What, have you never seen her? Just stand at Golden Gate,
And watch the setting sun go down in a haze across the state.
Or spend the night at Topmast, and you’ll see her golden hair
As the moon shines through the branches of the 3 grey birches there.
And so when we must leave here, our sadness of farewell
Is lessened because we understand the spirit remains to dwell.
She will guard our treasured island, through all the winter long;
She’ll wait, and watch, and remember, and tell it to us in song.
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