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1 My masters twain made me a bed
2 Of pine-boughs resinous, and cedar;
3 Of moss, a soft and gentle breeder
4 Of dreams of rest; and me they spread
5 With furry skins, and laughing said,
6 "Now she shall lay her polish'd sides,
7 As queens do rest, or dainty brides,
8 Our slender lady of the tides!"
9 My masters twain their camp-soul lit,
10 Streamed incense from the hissing cones,
11 Large, crimson flashes grew and whirl'd
12 Thin, golden nerves of sly light curl'd
13 Round the dun camp, and rose faint zones,
14 Half way about each grim bole knit,
15 Like a shy child that would bedeck
16 With its soft clasp a Brave's red neck;
17 Yet sees the rough shield on his breast,
18 The awful plumes shake on his crest,
19 And fearful drops his timid face,
20 Nor dares complete the sweet embrace.
21 Into the hollow hearts of brakes,
22 Yet warm from sides of does and stags,
23 Pass'd to the crisp dark river flags;
24 Sinuous, red as copper snakes,
25 Sharp-headed serpents, made of light,
26 Glided and hid themselves in night.
27 My masters twain, the slaughter'd deer
28 Hung on fork'd boughs—with thongs of leather.
29 Bound were his stiff, slim feet together—
30 His eyes like dead stars cold and drear;
31 The wand'ring firelight drew near
32 And laid its wide palm, red and anxious,
33 On the sharp splendor of his branches;
34 On the white foam grown hard and sere
35 On flank and shoulder.
36 Death—hard as breast of granite boulder,
37 And under his lashes
38 Peer'd thro' his eyes at his life's gray ashes.
39 My masters twain sang songs that wove
40 (As they burnish'd hunting blade and rifle)
41 A golden thread with a cobweb trifle—
42 Loud of the chase, and low of love.
43 "O Love, art thou a silver fish ?
44 Shy of the line and shy of gaffing,
45 Which we do follow, fierce, yet laughing,
46 Casting at thee the light-wing'd wish,
47 And at the last shall we bring thee up
48 From the crystal darkness under the cup
49 Of lily folden,
50 On broad leaves golden ?
51 "O Love! art thou a silver deer,
52 Swift thy starr'd feet as wing of swallow,
53 While we with rushing arrows follow;
54 And at the last shall we draw near,
55 And over thy velvet neck cast thongs—
56 Woven of roses, of stars, of songs ?
57 New chains all molden
58 Of rare gems olden!"
59 They hung the slaughter'd fish like swords
60 On saplings slender—like scimitars
61 Bright, and ruddied from new-dead wars,
62 Blaz'd in the light--the scaly hordes.
63 They pil'd up boughs beneath the trees,
64 Of cedar-web and green fir tassel;
65 Low did the pointed pine tops rustle,
66 The camp fire blush'd to the tender breeze.
67 The hounds laid dew-laps on the ground,
68 With needles of pine sweet, soft, and rusty—
69 Dream'd of the dead stag stout and lusty;
70 A bat by the red flames wove its round.
71 The darkness built its wigwam walls
72 Close round the camp, and at its curtain
73 Press'd shapes, thin woven and uncertain,
74 As white locks of tall waterfalls.
Isabella Valancy Crawford
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Read poems about / on: fish, red, silver, hunting, light, river, together, rose, child, dream, green, fire, dark, death, fishing, children, tree, snake, star
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Comments about this poem (Canoe, The
by
Isabella Valancy Crawford
) |
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comments about this poem (Canoe, The by
Isabella Valancy Crawford
)
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Mark Lewis Berryann
(11/16/2009 5:09:00 PM) |
An Epic! Very sad she died at such a young age.10
Mark
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Michael Harmon
(11/16/2009 4:16:00 PM) |
Description of part of a hunting trip from the point of view of a canoe.
A pair of hunters/fishermen, out in a canoe, with rifles, knives and hunting hounds. They beach their canoe, and prepare their deer and fish dinner.
A lot of beautiful imagery here, and piquant, I found, especially:
21 Into the hollow hearts of brakes,
22 Yet warm from sides of does and stags,
23 Pass'd to the crisp dark river flags;
24 Sinuous, red as copper snakes,
25 Sharp-headed serpents, made of light,
26 Glided and hid themselves in night.
It would appear, however, the poet has more fish to fry (lol) , by her casting out questions concerning the nature of love:
43 'O Love, art thou a silver fish? ...” (I found the inadvertent pun on “silverfish” threw me off for a moment. lol)
and
51 'O Love! art thou a silver deer, ”… (this reminded me of ee cummings' later: 'All in Green Went My Love Riding')
Few poems are perfect, even by some of the greatest practictioners. Nonetheless,
I found this poem both visually and meaningfully evocative, by a poet with a sure sense of diction (notwithstanding my own dislike for “twain”, albeit from the 19th century) , an ear for the music inherent in words, an affinity for powerful end-rhyme, an abundance of metaphoric offerings, and a talent for setting a scene of great texture and ambiance. Much more could be said, if I chose to take the time...
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Ramesh T A
(11/16/2009 8:53:00 AM) |
A long poem to read long in thoughtful way!
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Kevin Straw
(11/16/2009 5:45:00 AM) |
A lot of suggestion here, but it would take a braver man than I to pursue the meaning in this poem - 'and would it have been worth it, after all? ' - perhaps one should simply enjoy the rhetorical surface and let it go at that.
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