EDWARD J. CHAPMAN
ITHE purple shadows dreaminglyUpon the dreaming waters lie,And darken with the darkening sky.Calmly across the lake we float,I and thou, my little boat—The lake with its grey mist-capote.We lost the moon an hour ago:We saw it dip, and downward go,Whilst all the west was still aglow.But in those blue depths moon-forsakenA moon-like star its place hath taken;And one by one the rest awaken.IIWith noiseless paddle dip we glideAlong the bay's dark-fringëd side,Then out—amidst the waters wide!With us there floated here last nightWild threatening waves with foam-caps white,But these have now spent all their might.We knew they would not injure us,Those tossing waves, so boisterous—And where is now their fret and fuss?Only a ripple wrinkleth nowThe summer lake—and plashes lowAgainst the boat, in fitful flow.IIIStill callest thou—thou Whip-poor-will!When dipped the moon behind the hillI heard thee, and I hear thee still.But mingled with thy plaintive cryA wilder sound comes ebbing by,Out of the pine-woods, solemnly.It is the blinking owls that sitUp in the trees, and wait a-bitEre yet along the shores they flit.And hark, again! It comes anew—Piercing the dark pine-forest through,With its long too-hoo, too-hoo!IVSwifter and swifter, on we go;For though the breeze but feigns to blow,Its kisses catch us, soft and low.But with us now, and side by side,Striving awhile for place of pride,A silent, dusky form doth glide.Though swift and light the birch canoe,It cannot take the palm from you,My little boat, so trim and true."Indian! where away to-night?""Homeward I wend: yon beacon-lightShines out for me—good-night!"—"Good-night!"VShoreward again we glide—and goWhere the sumach shadows flowAcross the purple calm below.There, the far-winding creeks among,The frogs keep up, the summer long,The murmurs of their soft night-song—A song most soft and musical,Like the dulled voice of distant Fall,Or winds that through the pine-tops call.And where the dusky swamp lies dreaming,Shines the fire-flies' fitful gleaming—Through the cedars—dancing, streaming!VIWho is it hideth up in a treeWhere all but the bats asleep should be,And with his whistling mocketh me?Such quaint, quick pipings—two-and-two:Half a whistle, half a coo—Ah, Mister Tree-Frog! gare-à-vous!The owls on noiseless wing gloom by,—Beware, lest one a glimpse espyOf your grey coat and jewelled eye!And so, good-night!—We glide anewWhere shows the lake its softest blueWith mirror'd star-points sparkling through.VIIThe lights upon the distant shore,That shone so redly, shine no more:The Indian-fisher's toil is o'er.Already in the eastern skies,Where up and up new stars arise,A pearly lustre softly lies.And time it were for us to takeOur homeward course across the lake,Ere yet the tell-tale morn awake.O Night—where old shape-hauntings dwell,Though now, calm-eyed:—for thy soft spell,O soothing Night! I thank thee well.
ITHE purple shadows dreaminglyUpon the dreaming waters lie,And darken with the darkening sky.Calmly across the lake we float,I and thou, my little boat—The lake with its grey mist-capote.We lost the moon an hour ago:We saw it dip, and downward go,Whilst all the west was still aglow.But in those blue depths moon-forsakenA moon-like star its place hath taken;And one by one the rest awaken.IIWith noiseless paddle dip we glideAlong the bay's dark-fringëd side,Then out—amidst the waters wide!With us there floated here last nightWild threatening waves with foam-caps white,But these have now spent all their might.We knew they would not injure us,Those tossing waves, so boisterous—And where is now their fret and fuss?Only a ripple wrinkleth nowThe summer lake—and plashes lowAgainst the boat, in fitful flow.IIIStill callest thou—thou Whip-poor-will!When dipped the moon behind the hillI heard thee, and I hear thee still.But mingled with thy plaintive cryA wilder sound comes ebbing by,Out of the pine-woods, solemnly.It is the blinking owls that sitUp in the trees, and wait a-bitEre yet along the shores they flit.And hark, again! It comes anew—Piercing the dark pine-forest through,With its long too-hoo, too-hoo!IVSwifter and swifter, on we go;For though the breeze but feigns to blow,Its kisses catch us, soft and low.But with us now, and side by side,Striving awhile for place of pride,A silent, dusky form doth glide.Though swift and light the birch canoe,It cannot take the palm from you,My little boat, so trim and true."Indian! where away to-night?""Homeward I wend: yon beacon-lightShines out for me—good-night!"—"Good-night!"VShoreward again we glide—and goWhere the sumach shadows flowAcross the purple calm below.There, the far-winding creeks among,The frogs keep up, the summer long,The murmurs of their soft night-song—A song most soft and musical,Like the dulled voice of distant Fall,Or winds that through the pine-tops call.And where the dusky swamp lies dreaming,Shines the fire-flies' fitful gleaming—Through the cedars—dancing, streaming!VIWho is it hideth up in a treeWhere all but the bats asleep should be,And with his whistling mocketh me?Such quaint, quick pipings—two-and-two:Half a whistle, half a coo—Ah, Mister Tree-Frog! gare-à-vous!The owls on noiseless wing gloom by,—Beware, lest one a glimpse espyOf your grey coat and jewelled eye!And so, good-night!—We glide anewWhere shows the lake its softest blueWith mirror'd star-points sparkling through.VIIThe lights upon the distant shore,That shone so redly, shine no more:The Indian-fisher's toil is o'er.Already in the eastern skies,Where up and up new stars arise,A pearly lustre softly lies.And time it were for us to takeOur homeward course across the lake,Ere yet the tell-tale morn awake.O Night—where old shape-hauntings dwell,Though now, calm-eyed:—for thy soft spell,O soothing Night! I thank thee well.
ITHE purple shadows dreaminglyUpon the dreaming waters lie,And darken with the darkening sky.
I
THE purple shadows dreamingly
Upon the dreaming waters lie,
And darken with the darkening sky.
Calmly across the lake we float,I and thou, my little boat—The lake with its grey mist-capote.
Calmly across the lake we float,
I and thou, my little boat—
The lake with its grey mist-capote.
We lost the moon an hour ago:We saw it dip, and downward go,Whilst all the west was still aglow.
We lost the moon an hour ago:
We saw it dip, and downward go,
Whilst all the west was still aglow.
But in those blue depths moon-forsakenA moon-like star its place hath taken;And one by one the rest awaken.
But in those blue depths moon-forsaken
A moon-like star its place hath taken;
And one by one the rest awaken.
IIWith noiseless paddle dip we glideAlong the bay's dark-fringëd side,Then out—amidst the waters wide!
II
With noiseless paddle dip we glide
Along the bay's dark-fringëd side,
Then out—amidst the waters wide!
With us there floated here last nightWild threatening waves with foam-caps white,But these have now spent all their might.
With us there floated here last night
Wild threatening waves with foam-caps white,
But these have now spent all their might.
We knew they would not injure us,Those tossing waves, so boisterous—And where is now their fret and fuss?
We knew they would not injure us,
Those tossing waves, so boisterous—
And where is now their fret and fuss?
Only a ripple wrinkleth nowThe summer lake—and plashes lowAgainst the boat, in fitful flow.
Only a ripple wrinkleth now
The summer lake—and plashes low
Against the boat, in fitful flow.
IIIStill callest thou—thou Whip-poor-will!When dipped the moon behind the hillI heard thee, and I hear thee still.
III
Still callest thou—thou Whip-poor-will!
When dipped the moon behind the hill
I heard thee, and I hear thee still.
But mingled with thy plaintive cryA wilder sound comes ebbing by,Out of the pine-woods, solemnly.
But mingled with thy plaintive cry
A wilder sound comes ebbing by,
Out of the pine-woods, solemnly.
It is the blinking owls that sitUp in the trees, and wait a-bitEre yet along the shores they flit.
It is the blinking owls that sit
Up in the trees, and wait a-bit
Ere yet along the shores they flit.
And hark, again! It comes anew—Piercing the dark pine-forest through,With its long too-hoo, too-hoo!
And hark, again! It comes anew—
Piercing the dark pine-forest through,
With its long too-hoo, too-hoo!
IVSwifter and swifter, on we go;For though the breeze but feigns to blow,Its kisses catch us, soft and low.
IV
Swifter and swifter, on we go;
For though the breeze but feigns to blow,
Its kisses catch us, soft and low.
But with us now, and side by side,Striving awhile for place of pride,A silent, dusky form doth glide.
But with us now, and side by side,
Striving awhile for place of pride,
A silent, dusky form doth glide.
Though swift and light the birch canoe,It cannot take the palm from you,My little boat, so trim and true.
Though swift and light the birch canoe,
It cannot take the palm from you,
My little boat, so trim and true.
"Indian! where away to-night?""Homeward I wend: yon beacon-lightShines out for me—good-night!"—"Good-night!"
"Indian! where away to-night?"
"Homeward I wend: yon beacon-light
Shines out for me—good-night!"—"Good-night!"
VShoreward again we glide—and goWhere the sumach shadows flowAcross the purple calm below.
V
Shoreward again we glide—and go
Where the sumach shadows flow
Across the purple calm below.
There, the far-winding creeks among,The frogs keep up, the summer long,The murmurs of their soft night-song—
There, the far-winding creeks among,
The frogs keep up, the summer long,
The murmurs of their soft night-song—
A song most soft and musical,Like the dulled voice of distant Fall,Or winds that through the pine-tops call.
A song most soft and musical,
Like the dulled voice of distant Fall,
Or winds that through the pine-tops call.
And where the dusky swamp lies dreaming,Shines the fire-flies' fitful gleaming—Through the cedars—dancing, streaming!
And where the dusky swamp lies dreaming,
Shines the fire-flies' fitful gleaming—
Through the cedars—dancing, streaming!
VIWho is it hideth up in a treeWhere all but the bats asleep should be,And with his whistling mocketh me?
VI
Who is it hideth up in a tree
Where all but the bats asleep should be,
And with his whistling mocketh me?
Such quaint, quick pipings—two-and-two:Half a whistle, half a coo—Ah, Mister Tree-Frog! gare-à-vous!
Such quaint, quick pipings—two-and-two:
Half a whistle, half a coo—
Ah, Mister Tree-Frog! gare-à-vous!
The owls on noiseless wing gloom by,—Beware, lest one a glimpse espyOf your grey coat and jewelled eye!
The owls on noiseless wing gloom by,—
Beware, lest one a glimpse espy
Of your grey coat and jewelled eye!
And so, good-night!—We glide anewWhere shows the lake its softest blueWith mirror'd star-points sparkling through.
And so, good-night!—We glide anew
Where shows the lake its softest blue
With mirror'd star-points sparkling through.
VIIThe lights upon the distant shore,That shone so redly, shine no more:The Indian-fisher's toil is o'er.
VII
The lights upon the distant shore,
That shone so redly, shine no more:
The Indian-fisher's toil is o'er.
Already in the eastern skies,Where up and up new stars arise,A pearly lustre softly lies.
Already in the eastern skies,
Where up and up new stars arise,
A pearly lustre softly lies.
And time it were for us to takeOur homeward course across the lake,Ere yet the tell-tale morn awake.
And time it were for us to take
Our homeward course across the lake,
Ere yet the tell-tale morn awake.
O Night—where old shape-hauntings dwell,Though now, calm-eyed:—for thy soft spell,O soothing Night! I thank thee well.
O Night—where old shape-hauntings dwell,
Though now, calm-eyed:—for thy soft spell,
O soothing Night! I thank thee well.