  MY paddle gleamed, the light canoe The river’s waters glided through With scarce a sound to fret the air; The sun shone bright, the morn was fair And from the South soft breezes blew. O’erhead the swallows darting flew, Then dropt to earth to brush the dew From off the tangled grasses there My paddle gleamed! In form as perfect, fresh and new As when they first in Eden grew God’s gifts, before, lay everywhere; Behind, the city’s toil and care; Content, I joy’s full measure knew— My paddle gleamed! |
|
