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If you've never seen a Crisp Point Sunset Chances are . . .
YOU NEVER WILL
Nor will your children or your grand children
Unless The Eroding forces of Lake Superior are stopped NOW.
Kay DuBois of Akron, Ind. sent us this poem about Michigan's Crisp Point Lighthouse and we thought it must be shared with our readers.
Money is urgently needed to save Crisp Point Lighthouse. Donations can be sent to: Crisp Point Light Historical Society, P.O. Box 229, Paradise, MI 49768.
There was a time
When people stayed
And stood watch with me
They lived below and watched the sea
Watched the sea with me.
But times have changed
And so did they
As they described me
Still faithfully I stand the watch
Guardian of the inland sea
My house is gone
Destroyed by man
Only a few broken bricks
Left laying in the sand
At White Fish Point
There's a new light
Flashing his beacon
Throughout the night
But he's not grand
Not made of brick
He'll never have a keeper
To light his wick
Never have a family
To play at his feet
Never have a tall ship
Or an old steamer to greet
Yes, they say no need
For me anymore
But still I guard
This Northern shore
During the perilous storm of "75"
Twenty-nine did not return alive
But me with no wick, no lens and no light
Couldn't help The Big Fitz
That fatal night
Superior rages on
Relentless like the weather
Eating away the foundation
That's held us together
It's a lonely vigil
For we three
The gulls, the old pilings
And what's left of me
Always the old
Gives way to the new
There's nothing this old
Abandoned light can do
Nothing but wait
And watch the shore below me
Till the water I've faithfully guarded
Ungratefully consumes me.
This story appeared in the
July 1997 edition of Lighthouse Digest Magazine. The print edition contains more stories than our internet edition, and each story generally contains more photographs - often many more - in the print edition. For subscription information about the print edition, click here.
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