The fishing song.
107
I see the maples leafing,
Just as they leafed before;
The green grass comes no greener
Down to the very shore.
Just as they leafed before;
The green grass comes no greener
Down to the very shore.
And the rude song swelling, sinking,
In the cadence of days gone by,
As the oar, from the water drinking,
Ripples the mirrored sky.
In the cadence of days gone by,
As the oar, from the water drinking,
Ripples the mirrored sky.
Yet the soul hath life diviner;
Its past returns no more;
But in echoes that answer the minor
Of the boat-song from the shore.
Its past returns no more;
But in echoes that answer the minor
Of the boat-song from the shore.
And the ways of God are darkness,
His judgment waiteth long;
He breaks the heart of a woman
With a fisherman's careless song.
His judgment waiteth long;
He breaks the heart of a woman
With a fisherman's careless song.
