 | New songs of innocence |  |
86
ON THE CANAL.
The slow canal is surging
Like a river tempest-rolled;
To-day she needs no urging,
That mare forlorn and old.
Like a kite the gust has caught her—
The barge glides on behind
Like a wedge driven through the water
By the hammer of the wind.
Like a river tempest-rolled;
To-day she needs no urging,
That mare forlorn and old.
Like a kite the gust has caught her—
The barge glides on behind
Like a wedge driven through the water
By the hammer of the wind.
Those two old men on board there
Go daily up and down—
I muse what thoughts are stored there
Beneath each hoary crown.
What are the joys that brighten
Their orbit fixed and grey?
Is there a hope to lighten
Their shortly closing day?
Go daily up and down—
I muse what thoughts are stored there
Beneath each hoary crown.
What are the joys that brighten
Their orbit fixed and grey?
Is there a hope to lighten
Their shortly closing day?
They talk at times together,
Or smoke the pipe of peace;
Of course there is the weather
Whose changes hardly cease
To keep them still awake there,
And cheerful, more or less—
My Willie's heart would break there
For very weariness!
Or smoke the pipe of peace;
Of course there is the weather
Whose changes hardly cease
To keep them still awake there,
And cheerful, more or less—
My Willie's heart would break there
For very weariness!
| New songs of innocence | |