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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. For subscription information about the print edition, click here.

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