 | Joaquin Miller's Poems |  |
XVI
We lay slow rocking by the bayIn slim canoe beneath the crags
Thick-topp'd with palms, like sweeping flags
Between us and the burning day.
The alligator's head lay low
Or lifted from his rich rank fern,
And watch'd us and the tide by turn,
As we slow cradled to and fro.
| Joaquin Miller's Poems | |