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.