98
NIGHT AMONG THE THOUSAND ISLANDS.
Mysterious falls the moon's transforming light
On lichen-covered rock and granite wall,
Comes piercing through the hollows of the night
The loon's weird, plaintive call.
Like some great regiment upon the shore
The stalwart pines go trooping up the hill,
And faintly in the distance o'er and o'er
Echoes the whip-poor-will.
Like silhouettes the dreaming islands keep
Their silent watches, mirrored in the tide,
While in their labyrinthine aisles some deep,
Still mystery seems to hide.
From out the shadows dim against the sky
Come stealing shadow-ships not made of men,
Faint phantom-barques that slowly drifting by
Are swallowed up again.
