Far above us where a jay br Screams his matins to the day, br Capped with gold and amethyst, br Like a vapour from the forge br Of a giant somewhere hid, br Out of hearing of the clang br Of his hammer, skirts of mist br Slowly up the wooden gorge br Lift and hang. br br Softly as a cloud we go, br Sky above and sky below, br Down the river, and the dip br Of the paddles scarcely breaks, br With the little silvery drip br Of the water as it shakes br From the blades, the crystal deep br Of the silence of the morn, br Of the forest yet asleep; br And the river reaches borne br In a mirror, purple grey, br Sheer away br To the misty line of light, br Where the forest and the stream br In a shadow meet and plight, br Like a dream. br br From amid a stretch of reeds, br Where the lazy river sucks br All the water as it bleeds br From a little curling creek, br And the muskrats peer and sneak br In around the sunken wrecks br Of a tree that swept the skies br Long ago, br On a sudden seven ducks br With a splashy rustle rise, br Stretching out their seven necks, br One before, and two behind, br And the others all arow, br And as steady as the wind br With a snivelling whistle go, br Through the purple shadow led, br Till we only hear their whir br In behind a rocky spur, br Just ahead.