The Moon-Canoe by Edwina Stanton Babcock — Read

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.