"The Old Canoe" (1877)
by George Frederick Root, 1820-1895

1.
Where the rocks are gray and the | shore is steep,
And the waters below look | dark and deep,
Where the lofty plain, in its | lonely pride,
Looms gloomily over the | murky tide;
Where the reeds and the rushes are | tall and rank,
And the weeds grow thick on the | winding bank;
Where the shadows are heavy the | whole day thro',
Lies at its moorings the | old canoe.

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The old canoe, the old canoe,
'Twas beautiful and new;
And tho' no more it dips the oar,
I love the old canoe.

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2.
O, many a time, with a | careless hand,
Have I pulled it away from its | pebbly strand,
And paddled it down where the | stream runs quick,
Where its whirls are wild and the | eddies are thick,
And laughed as I leaned o'er its | rocking side,
And looked below in the | broken tide,
To see that the faces and | boats were _two_,
That were mirrored back to the old canoe.

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3.
But now, as I lean o'er its | broken side,
And look below in the | murky tide,
The face that I see there has | graver grown,
And the laugh that I hear has a | sober tone;
And the hands that once lent the | light skiff wings,
Have grown familiar with | sterner things
But I love to think of the | hours that flew
O'er my beautiful days in the | old canoe.

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