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A Feast of Lanterns, by L. Cranmer-Byng, , at sacred-texts.com
BOATING SONG OF THE YO EH
we glide through forest green,
By misty shore and gaunt ravine.
And whether we tarry or drift along
The clouds and the birds around us throng,
And mirrored mountains' nodding brows
Follow the wake of our flying prows.
Now song returns from rock to rock;
Now soundless glades our silence mock.
Sunbeam and shadow elves at play
Beckon our wandering wills to stray.
Ah furl your sails! ah furl your sails!
The last wind down the valley fails.