IN A CANOE

Starlight, and the silver lake

Clasp the skies —

And two nearer, dearer stars,

Your eyes!

Elfin voices seem to call

Through the night,

But your arms are warm, and they

Hold me tight.

Pallidly the moon slides down,

Hour by hour slips;

Ah, the deathless magic of

Your lips!

Dark the shadows as we creep

Past the shore —

Dear, that we might drift like this

Evermore!