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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=413322" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Camp of Souls</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">1 My white canoe, like the silvery air<br>2 O'er the River of Death that darkly rolls<br>3 When the moons of the world are round and fair,<br>4 I paddle back from the 'Camp of Souls.'<br>5 When the wishton-wish in the low swamp grieves<br>6 Come the dark plumes of red 'Singing Leaves.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">7 Two hundred times have the moons of spring<br>8 Rolled over the bright bay's azure breath<br>9 Since they decked me with plumes of an eagle's wing,<br>10 And painted my face with the 'paint of death,'<br>11 And from their pipes o'er my corpse there broke<br>12 The solemn rings of the blue 'last smoke.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">13 Two hundred times have the wintry moons<br>14 Wrapped the dead earth in a blanket white;<br>15 Two hundred times have the wild sky loons<br>16 Shrieked in the flush of the golden light<br>17 Of the first sweet dawn, when the summer weaves<br>18 Her dusky wigwam of perfect leaves. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">19 Two hundred moons of the falling leaf<br>20 Since they laid my bow in my dead right hand<br>21 And chanted above me the 'song of grief'<br>22 As I took my way to the spirit land;<br>23 Yet when the swallow the blue air cleaves<br>24 Come the dark plumes of red 'Singing Leaves.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">25 White are the wigwams in that far camp,<br>26 And the star-eyed deer on the plains are found;<br>27 No bitter marshes or tangled swamp<br>28 In the Manitou's happy hunting-ground!<br>29 And the moon of summer forever rolls<br>30 Above the red men in their 'Camp of Souls.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">31 Blue are its lakes as the wild dove's breast,<br>32 And their murmurs soft as her gentle note;<br>33 As the calm, large stars in the deep sky rest,<br>34 The yellow lilies upon them float;<br>35 And canoes, like flakes of the silvery snow,<br>36 Thro' the tall, rustling rice-beds come and go. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">37 Green are its forests; no warrior wind<br>38 Rushes on war trail the dusk grove through,<br>39 With leaf-scalps of tall trees mourning behind;<br>40 But South Wind, heart friend of Great Manitou,<br>41 When ferns and leaves with cool dews are wet,<br>42 Bows flowery breaths from his red calumet. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">43 Never upon them the white frosts lie,<br>44 Nor glow their green boughs with the 'paint of death';<br>45 Manitou smiles in the crystal sky,<br>46 Close breathing above them His life-strong breath;<br>47 And He speaks no more in fierce thunder sound,<br>48 So near is His happy hunting-ground. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">49 Yet often I love, in my white canoe,<br>50 To come to the forests and camps of earth:<br>51 'Twas there death's black arrow pierced me through;<br>52 'Twas there my red-browed mother gave me birth;<br>53 There I, in the light of a young man's dawn,<br>54 Won the lily heart of dusk 'Springing Fawn.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">55 And love is a cord woven out of life,<br>56 And dyed in the red of the living heart;<br>57 And time is the hunter's rusty knife,<br>58 That cannot cut the red strands apart:<br>59 And I sail from the spirit shore to scan<br>60 Where the weaving of that strong cord began. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">61 But I may not come with a giftless hand,<br>62 So richly I pile, in my white canoe,<br>63 Flowers that bloom in the spirit land,<br>64 Immortal smiles of Great Manitou.<br>65 When I paddle back to the shores of earth<br>66 I scatter them over the white man's hearth. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">67 For love is the breath of the soul set free;<br>68 So I cross the river that darkly rolls,<br>69 That my spirit may whisper soft to thee<br>70 Of thine who wait in the 'Camp of Souls.'<br>71 When the bright day laughs, or the wan night grieves,<br>72 Come the dusky plumes of red 'Singing Leaves.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Isabella+Valancy+Crawford">Isabella Valancy Crawford</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=413322" data-title="The Camp of Souls de Isabella Valancy Crawford" data-description="1 My white canoe, like the silvery air
2 O'er the River of Death that darkly rolls
3 When the moons of the world are round and fair,
4 I paddle back from the 'Camp of Souls.'
5 When the wishton-wish in the low swamp grieves
6 Come the dark plumes ..."></div>
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