Mapping Indigenous Poetry of North America, 1830-1924

"Wave-Won" by E. Pauline Johnson

To-night I hunger so, 
Beloved one, to know 
If you recall and crave again the dream 
That haunted our canoe,
And wove its witchcraft through
Our hearts as 'neath the northern night we sailed 
    the northern stream. 

Ah! dear, if only we 
As yesternight could be 
Afloat within that light and lonely shell,
To drift in silence till 
Heart-hushed, and lulled and still 
The moonlight through the melting air flung forth its
     fatal spell. 
    
The dusky summer night,
The path of gold and white 
The moon had cast across the river's breast,
The shores in shadows clad, 
The far-away, half-sad 
Sweet singing of the whip-poor-will, all soothed our 
    souls to rest.
    
You trusted I could feel 
My arm as strong as steel,
So still your upturned face, so calm your breath,
While circling eddies curled,
While laughing rapids whirled 
From boulder unto boulder, till they dashed them-
    selves to death. 
    
Your splendid eyes aflame 
Put heaven's stars to shame,
Your god-like head so near my lap was laid— 
My hand is burning where
It touched your wind-blown hair,
As sweeping to the rapids verge, I changed my
    paddle blade. 
    
The boat obeyed my hand,
Till wearied with its grand
Wild anger, all the river lay aswoon.
And as my paddle dipped,
Thro' pools of pearl it slipped
And swept beneath a shore of shade, beneath a 
    velvet moon. 
    
To-night, again dream you
Our spirit-winged canoe 
Is listening to the rapids purling past? 
Where, in delirium reeled 
Our maddened hearts that kneeled 
To idolize the perfect world, to taste of love at
    last. 

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