August Night, on Georgian Bay
by William Wilfred Campbell
The day dreams out, the night is brooding in,
Across this world of vapor, wood, and wave.
Things blur and dim. Cool silvery ripples lave
The sands and rustling reed-beds. Now begin
Night’s dreamy choruses, the murmurous din
Of sleepy voices. Tremulous, one by one,
The stars blink in. The dusk drives out the sun;
And all the world the hosts of darkness win.
Anon, through mists, the harvest moon will come,
With breathing flames, above the forest edge;
Flooding the silence in a silvern dream:
Conquering the night and all its voices dumb,
With unheard melodies. While all agleam,
Low flutes the lake along the lustrous sedge.
