There lies a somnolent lake br Under a noiseless sky, br Where never the mornings break br Nor the evenings die. br br Mad flakes of colour br Whirl on its even face br Iridescent and streaked with pallour; br And, warding the silent place, br br The rocks rise sheer and gray br From the sedgeless brink to the sky br Dull-lit with the light of pale half-day br Thro' a void space and dry. br br And the hours lag dead in the air br With a sense of coming eternity br To the heart of the lonely boatman there: br That boatman am I, br br I, in my lonely boat, br A waif on the somnolent lake, br Watching the colours creep and float br With the sinuous track of a snake. br br Now I lean o'er the side br And lazy shades in the water see, br Lapped in the sweep of a sluggish tide br Crawled in from the living sea; br br And next I fix mine eyes, br So long that the heart declines, br On the changeless face of the open skies br Where no star shines; br br And now to the rocks I turn, br To the rocks, around br That lie like walls of a circling sun br Wherein lie bound br br The waters that feel my powerless strength br And meet my homeless oar br Labouring over their ashen length br Never to find a shore. br br But the gleam still skims br At times on the somnolent lake, br And a light there is that swims br With the whirl of a snake; br br And tho' dead be the hours i' the air, br And dayless the sky, br The heart is alive of the boatman there: br That boatman am I.