The Coast of Maine

1916

Bold, lovely Coast of Maine
I tune my lyre to sing of thee
In sultry summer days; vacation's plea
Calls often in sweet wooing tones to me—
Where shall we go prithee?
Imagination takes swift wing
And in a motor boat we are afloat
With refreshing breeze on billowy sea.
Chug, chug, we onward go in glee
From Kittery Point to Old Quoddy.
What varied views are seen
At the numerous points that lie between;
York Beach and Kennebunk, Old Orchard Beach,
Then Portland, in our power boat we reach,
The myriad isles of Casco Bay, are in our way
With loveliness that stirs our lay;
Squirrel Island next, and now we near
Point Pemaquid, Muscongus Bay is here,
The Medomak also, which becomes a rill
At headwaters near "Paul Shinars" Mill.

Friendship, synonym of coast equality,
Port Clyde is on our lee,
Through Mussel Channel to Owl's Head we speed
Rockland is near, with everything you need.
Penobscot's waters we should fain explore
Long wooded banks to bustling Bangor,
Replenishing gasoline with fresh supplies
We turn our vessel's prow toward the main
Past Vinal and North Haven we nearly fly,
And land at Eggemoggin, fair Deer Isle.

Gem of the bay, bisected spot
With pretty hamlets lined,
Sunset, Mountainville, Little Deer, Sunshine,
A paradise for tourists here we find.
Where nature's resources rest the wearied mind.
Up anchor and away thro' devious Jericho,
Past Swans' Island and Bar Harbor and Ho! Ho!
Frenchman's Bay we leave on our way,
Petit Manan quite soon we scan
Then o'er Englishmans' bay, fast as we can;
We make Machiasport, and soon before us lay
West Quoddy Head, and Passamaquoddy Bay.

The very collection of such scenes
Is cooling mid the fever heat of things;
There seems to be a tugging to get away
Where Oceans' lyric song is heard, and naiads play,
To island, bay, cove, meandering stream,
Where majestic yachts go flitting by
To charm the gazers' eye;
While spreading trees with foliage green
Crown shores, smile vernal, o'er the scene.

Amidst such splendid vasts 'tis grand,
Yea grander than Acadia's strand,
Land of Evangeline,
Or Scotia's glories Scott doth sing.
Elysium for rest and fish and game
Is the bold, lovely coast of Pine Tree Maine.

— H. W. COLLINS.
STANDISH, Me.

—The Fryeburg Post, Fryeburg, Maine, Sept. 26, 1916, p. 1.