Indian Lake Poem

When I got together with a cousin of mine a few years ago she passed along to me many old photos and some papers that had belonged to her mother.  It was really exciting to discover photos of my Flynns and Hartmans that I had never seen before.  Among other things was a poem written by my gg-grandmother.  It turns out that this was a hobby of hers, as I found out by searching through old Kalamazoo newspapers.

Without further ado, here is Sarah (Clemens) Flynn's poem about Indian Lake, which she probably wrote after one of many visits to see her daughter Cora (Flynn) Lemon at Lemon Park.

Indian Lake

As I sat on the shores of fair Indian Lake

On a beautiful Sabbath day,

As the waves washed up on the sands at my feet,

Methinks I could hear them all say,

“'Tis thus for ages we have rolled on this shore

Sometimes as peaceful as now,

But when the Storm King in his fury doth rage

In high-capped splendor we bow.

“Once the red man rowed here in his birch bark canoe

As free as the bird of the air;

And the thick woods rang with their shouts and their songs

While chasing wild beasts to their lair.

They have left us their names. Alas! That is all;

For they have been driven from home.

The white man has come with his civilized ways

And caused the poor Indian to roam.

“The trees have been thinned, now a beautiful grove

Surrounds our waters so clear.

In place of the wigwams of our old Indian braves

The home of the white man is here.

Each year new cottages appear on our shore

And boats take the place of canoe

The fame of our fish have gone far and wide,

Yes, farther than Kalamazoo.

“Now it is called a resort, by name of Lemon Park,

And all through each long summer day

The campers or parties for pleasure will come

Each happy in his or her way.

No changes we make, now, as in ages past

The very same welcome we make

To those who delight to see the waves splash

On the shores of our beautiful lake.”