O ship incoming from the
With all your cloudy tower of sail,
Dashing the water to the lee,
And leaning grandly to the gale,
The sunset pageant in the
Has filled your canvas curves with rose,
And jeweled every toppling
That crashes into silver snows!
You know the joy of coming home,
After long leagues to France or
You feel the clear Canadian
And the gulf water heave again.
Between these somber purple
That cool the sunset's molten bars,
You will go on as the wind wills,
Beneath the river's roof of stars.
You will toss onward toward the
That spangle over the lonely pier,
By hamlets glimmering on the heights,
By level islands black and clear.
You will go on beyond the tide,
Through brimming plains of olive sedge,
Through paler shadows light and wide,
The rapids piled along the ledge.
At evening off some reedy
You will swing slowly on your chain,
And catch the scent of dewy hay,
Soft blowing from the pleasant plain.
