II.—NIGHT—LAKE HELEN.
I lie in my red canoe
On the water still and deep,
And o'er me darkens the blue,
And beneath the billows sleep,
Till, between the stars o'erhead
And those in the lake's embrace,
I seem to float like the dead
In the noiselessness of space.
Betwixt two worlds I drift,
A bodiless soul again—
Between the still thoughts of God
And those which belong to men;
And out of the height above,
And out of the deep below,
A thought that is like a ghost
Seems to gather and gain and grow,
That now and for evermore
This silence of death shall hold,
While the nations fade and die
And the countless years are rolled.
But I turn the light canoe,
And, darting across the night,
Am glad of the paddles' noise
And the camp-fire's honest light.
EDWARD KEARSLEY.