Between The Rapids
The point is turned; the twilight shadow
The wheeling stream, the soft receding shore,
And on our ears from deep among the
Breaks now the rapid's sudden quickening roar
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The point is turned; the twilight shadow
The wheeling stream, the soft receding shore,
And on our ears from deep among the
Breaks now the rapid's sudden quickening roar
Here at the roots of the mountains,
Between the sombre legions of cedars and tamaracks,
The rapids charge the ravine:
A little light, cast by foam under starlight,