Night on the River

This is our world: a dark stream murmuring;

Sly hordes of shadows out of every brake;

Sky-fallen gold-fish stars that float or shake

In mirrored nets these wizard maples fling;

My oars, that dip like some light swallow's wing;

Fire-flies, like sparks that the wind fans awake;

And moments like the bubbles that we make,

Like the frail foam that marks our voyaging!

Love, let us drift-what matter when or where?

Are not the stars, the dusk, the whispering stream,

Far whippoorwills, our boat, and we, a dream

In some mad mind? And do not all streams bear

Themselves and all they hold to one vast sea-

The waste wan waters of Eternity?

E. Merrill Root