 | Poems |  |
THE FISHING SONG.
Down in the wide, gray river,
The current is sweeping strong;
Over the wide, gray river,
Floats the fisherman's song.
The current is sweeping strong;
Over the wide, gray river,
Floats the fisherman's song.
The oar-stroke times the singing;
The song falls with the oar;
And an echo in both is ringing;
I thought to hear no more.
The song falls with the oar;
And an echo in both is ringing;
I thought to hear no more.
Out of a deeper current,
The song brings back to me
A cry from mortal silence,
Of mortal agony.
The song brings back to me
A cry from mortal silence,
Of mortal agony.
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Life that was spent and vanished,
Love that had died of wrong,
Hearts that are dead in living,
Come back on the fisherman's song.
Love that had died of wrong,
Hearts that are dead in living,
Come back on the fisherman's song.
I see the maples leafing,
Just as they leafed before;
The green grass comes no greener
Down to the very shore.
Just as they leafed before;
The green grass comes no greener
Down to the very shore.
And the rude song swelling, sinking,
In the cadence of days gone by,
As the oar, from the water drinking,
Ripples the mirrored sky.
In the cadence of days gone by,
As the oar, from the water drinking,
Ripples the mirrored sky.
Yet the soul hath life diviner;
Its past returns no more;
But in echoes that answer the minor
Of the boat-song from the shore.
Its past returns no more;
But in echoes that answer the minor
Of the boat-song from the shore.
And the ways of God are darkness,
His judgment waiteth long;
He breaks the heart of a woman
With a fisherman's careless song.
His judgment waiteth long;
He breaks the heart of a woman
With a fisherman's careless song.
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