The Lily Bed

His cedar paddle, scented, red, He thrust down through the lily bed; Cloaked in a golden pause he lay, Locked in the arms of the placid bay. Trembled alone his bark canoe As shocks of bursting lilies flew Thro' the still crystal of the tide, And smote the frail boat's birchen side; Or, when beside the sedges thin Rose the sharp silver of a fin; Or when, a wizard swift and cold, A dragon-fly beat out in gold And jewels all the widening rings Of waters singing to his wings; Or, like a winged and burning soul, Dropped from the gloom an oriole On the cool wave, as to the balm Of the Great Spirit's open palm The freed soul flies. And silence clung To the still hours, as tendrils hung, In darkness carven, from the trees, Sedge-buried to their burly knees. Stillness sat in his lodge of leaves; Clung golden shadows to its eaves, And on its cone-spiced floor, like maize, Red-ripe, fell sheaves of knotted rays. The wood, a proud and crested brave; Bead-bright, a maiden, stood the wave. And he had spoke his soul of love With voice of eagle and of dove. Of loud, strong pines his tongue was made; His lips, soft blossoms in the shade, That kissed her silver lips--her's cool As lilies on his inmost pool-- Till now he stood, in triumph's rest, His image painted in her breast. One isle 'tween blue and blue did melt,-- A bead of wampum from the belt Of Manitou--a purple rise On the far shore heaved to the skies. His cedar paddle, scented, red, He drew up from the lily bed; All lily-locked, all lily-locked, His light bark in the blossoms rocked. Their cool lips round the sharp prow sand, Their soft clasp to the frail sides sprang, With breast and lip they wove a bar. Stole from her lodge the Evening Star; With golden hand she grasped the mane Of a red cloud on her azure plain. It by the peaked, red sunset flew; Cool winds from its bright nostrils blew. They swayed the high, dark trees, and low Swept the locked lilies to and fro. With cedar paddle, scented, red, He pushed out from the lily bed.