Emily Pauline Johnson

Re-Voyage

    What of the days when we two dreamed together?
        Days marvellously fair,
    As lightsome as a skyward floating feather
        Sailing on summer air -
    Summer, summer, that came drifting through
    Fate's hand to me, to you.

    What of the days, my dear? I sometimes wonder
        If you too wish this sky
    Could be the blue we sailed so softly under,
        In that sun-kissed July;
    Sailed in the warm and yellow afternoon,
    With hearts in touch and tune.

    Have you no longing to re-live the dreaming,
        Adrift in my canoe?
    To watch my paddle blade all wet and gleaming
        Cleaving the waters through?
    To lie wind-blown and wave-caressed, until
    Your restless pulse grows still?

    Do you not long to listen to the purling
        Of foam athwart the keel?
    To hear the nearing rapids softly swirling
        Among their stones, to feel
    The boat's unsteady tremor as it braves
    The wild and snarling waves?

    What need of question, what of your replying?
        Oh! well I know that you
    Would toss the world away to be but lying
        Again in my canoe,
    In listless indolence entranced and lost,
    Wave-rocked, and passion tossed.

    Ah me! my paddle failed me in the steering
        Across love's shoreless seas;
    All reckless, I had ne'er a thought of fearing
        Such dreary days as these,
    When through the self-same rapids we dash by,
    My lone canoe and I.