George Pope Morris

* * *

Twilight.

Oh, boatman, haste!—The twilight hour
   Is closing gently o'er the lea!
The sun, whose setting shuts the flower.
   Has looked his last upon the sea!
  Row, then, boatman, row!
  Row, then, boatman, row!
Row!—aha!—we've moon and star!
And our skiff with the stream is flowing.
  Heigh-ho!—ah!—heigh-ho!—
  Echo responds to my sad heigh-ho!

Midnight.

Oh, boatman, haste!—The sentry calls
   The midnight hour on yonder shore,
And silvery sweet the echo falls
   As music dripping from the oar!
  Row, then, boatman, row!
  Row, then, boatman, row!
Row!—afar fade moon and star!
While our skiff with the stream is flowing!
  Heigh-ho!—ah!—heigh-ho!—
  Echo responds to my sad heigh-ho.

Dawn.

Oh, boatman haste!—The morning beam
   Glides through the fleecy clouds above:
So breaks on life's dark, murm'ring stream,
   The rosy dawn of woman's love!
  Row, then, boatman, row!
  Row, then, boatman, row!
Row!—'Tis day!—away—away!
To land with the stream we are flowing!
  Heigh-ho!—dear one—ho!
  Beauty responds to my glad heigh-ho!