Page:This Canada of ours and other poems.djvu/16

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10
KESWICK BAY.

Like a wail of distress from the water;
    The night-hawk replies from the hill,
And there floats from a far-away thicket
    The plaint of the lone whip-poor-will.

The sunset has melted in silver,
    The crimsons have faded to grey,
And softly, in silence and shadow,
    Night falls on the beautiful bay.