When a very small lad--before I'd read
Of the Beautiful Harbor of Marblehead--
I thought the wee lake of historic fame,
The sweet little lake with the Indian name,
Where I loved to fish and I loved to swim,
And I loved to roam when the light was dim,
The lake near the cot of my humble birth--
The loveliest spot in the whole wide earth.
But I was a child and ne'er had read
Of the Beautiful Harbor of Marblehead.

Then as time passed on, there came a day,
When a storm came over Chocorua;
And the drowsy lake of an hour before
Was a peaceful lake no more--no more;

The torrents roared, the lightnings flashed,
The thunder pealed and the billows dashed,
And I said to my Thought: "In all this land
There is not another sight so grand!"
But I had not seen, mayhap I'd read
Of the Beautiful Harbor of Marblehead.

But there dawned a day when the world seemed new;
The gentle winds from the south land blew,
The sky was clear and the sun shone bright,
My purse was full and my heart was light;
And I said to my Thought: "We must rove this day!"
And my Thought made answer: "Wither way?"
Then down on the rocks, my Thought and I
Wandered and wandered, while the ships passed by;
On one that was starting the legend said:
"For the Beautiful Harbor of Marblehead!"

-- Albert Bradburn Barrows