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Poem of Joys.
263

Or, another time, fishing for rock-fish in Chesapeake
Bay—I one of the brown-faced crew;
Or, another time, trailing for blue-fish off Paumanok,
I stand with braced body.
My left foot is on the gunwale—my right arm throws
the coils of slender rope,
In sight around me the quick veering and darting of
fifty skiffs, my companions.

20.O boating on the rivers!
The voyage down the Niagara, (the St. Lawrence,)—
the superb scenery—the steamers,
The ships sailing—the Thousand Islands—the occasional
timber-raft, and the raftsmen with long-reaching
sweep-oars,
The little huts on the rafts, and the stream of smoke
when they cook supper at evening.

21.O something pernicious and dread!
Something far away from a puny and pious life!
Something unproved! Something in a trance!
Something escaped from the anchorage, and driving
free.

22.O to work in mines, or forging iron!
Foundry casting—the foundry itself—the rude high
roof—the ample and shadowed space,
The furnace—the hot liquid poured out and running.

23.O the joys of the soldier!
To feel the presence of a brave general! to feel his
sympathy!
To behold his calmness! to be warmed in the rays of
his smile!