And there upon its calm-still’d wave, throughout the shortening day,
And oft when daylight waned apace, and stars be-gemm’d the sky,
By rocky nab or islet green, by slumb’ring pool or bay,
We glided through the peacefulness—stark old John Long and I.
Yes; though John Long was worn and wan, he still was stark and strong,
And he plied his bending “rooers” with a boatman’s manly pride,
As crashing past the islands, through the reed stalk, crisp and long,
He stretch’d away far northward, where the lake spread fair and wide.
“Now rest upon your oars, John Long,” one evening still said I,
When shadows deepened o’er the mere from Latter-barrow Fell;