| Poems by Women |
THE SONG MY PADDLE SINGS
E. Pauline Johnson [1862-1913]
West wind, blow from your prairie nest,
Blow from the
mountains, blow from the west.
The sail is idle, the sailor too;
O wind of
the west, we wait for you!
Blow, blow!
I have wooed you so,
But never a
favor you bestow.
You rock your cradle the hills between,
But scorn to
notice my white lateen.
I stow the sail and unship the mast:
I wooed you long, but my wooing's
past;
My paddle will lull you into rest:
O drowsy wind of the drowsy
west,
Sleep, sleep!
By your mountains steep,
Or down where the prairie
grasses sweep,
Now fold in slumber your laggard wings,
For soft is the
song my paddle sings.
Be strong, O paddle! be brave, canoe!
The reckless waves you must plunge
into.
Reel, reel,
On your trembling keel,
But never a fear my craft
will feel.
We've raced the rapids; we're far ahead:
The river slips through its
silent bed.
Sway, sway,
As the bubbles spray
And fall in tinkling tunes
away.
And up on the hills against the sky,
A fir tree rocking its
lullaby
Swings, swings,
Its emerald wings,
Swelling the song that my
paddle sings.
From: Stevenson, Burton Egbert.
The Home Book of Verse.
This poet:
[Author index]
This collection assembled by Jone Johnson Lewis.
Collection © 1999-2002 Jone Johnson Lewis.
Citing poems from these pages:
| Author. "Poem Title." Women's History: Poems by Women. Jone Johnson Lewis, editor. URL: (date of logon) |
