Classic Poem

Our oars keep time
In merry chime,
As light we pull to the shore.
By greenwood tree
My home I see,—
So heave! for our voyage is o'er.

The golden day
Now fades away,
And red uprises the moon
The water-flake,
Along our wake,
Is lost in darkness soon.

And west, afar,
The evening star
Looks over the curling lake;
And hark! my ear—
The shore is near—
Can hear the ripples break.

The window-light
Now greets my sight,—
My wife is waiting there.
Along the strand
I see them stand,
My boys, so gentle and fair.

So pull away;—
I hear them say,
“See! yonder, father has come.
The window is bright,—
A happy night
There 'll be in the boatman's home.