The Moon-Canoe

Where evening tides creep dark and blue,
I launch my little moon-canoe.

I leave the planet harbor light,
And lay my course along the Night.

I paddle down the Milky Way
Where phospher sky weeds gleam and spray,

And pluck what starry branches grow
Along its winding overflow.

I swing my shallop out mid dream
Where tides of summer evening stream;

And carried on this sound so wide,
Still on and on and on I glide,

Harking, along the Western bar
The bell buoy of a swinging star.

My meteor anchor will, I ween,
Hold in this dark of depth unseen;

The dew, my silver lead and line
Doth sound me shallows of star shine;

And now and then I reef the veil
Of fog that serves me for a sail.

When, bold, I make the Western lee,
Old pilot shadows signal me;

And tacking windward come a fleet
Of clouds, with ghostly spar and sheet.

I follow them and disembark,
And moor my boat beyond the Dark.