Cross Roads

IN A CANOE

     Starlight, and the silver lake
           Clasp the skies—
     And two nearer, dearer stars,
           Your eyes!

     Elfin voices seem to call
           Through the night,
     But your arms are warm, and they
           Hold me tight.

     Pallidly the moon slides down,
           Hour by hour slips;
     Ah, the deathless magic of
           Your lips!

     Dark the shadows as we creep
           Past the shore—
     Dear, that we might drift like this
           Evermore!