FISHING AT NIGHT 



Like fairy cakes, the silver pine 



Stand out against the moon 

 And eery-voiced, the dim shore line 



Gives answer to the loon. 

 A flashing fish breaks through 



The inky sheet we glide 

 A rod, a reel, a birch canoe 



And I am satisfied. 



Assassin night doth rule the sky 



The Heavens gleam no more, 

 Yet still the gloom is penciled by 



The golden fire on shore. 

 Deep hours must pass till birth anew 



Gives dawn a fading bride 

 A rod, a reel, a birch canoe 



And I am satisfied. 



It seems as though, above, there might 

 Be gathered whisp'ring souls 



To see, unseen, in pulsing night 

 Their one-time fishing holes 

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