Chinese Song

(God to the soul)

 

My friend of joy,

Why do you never let me row?

Or, you await, perhaps, the breaking of the oar?

When it will break, I'll part the waters

With skill of mine own arm;

For we two must decoy

The deep old river-god.

 

Where is the shore?

The autumn moon comes arm in arm

With his fair daughters:

You want the moon to think

You're rowing, but I think

The little ones yet know

That it is I.

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