The Song my Paddle Sings
West wind, blow from your prairie nest,
Blow from the mountains, blow from the west
The sail is idle, the sailor too ;
O! wind of the west, we wait for you.
Blow, blow!
I have wooed you so,
But never a favour you bestow.
You rock your cradle the hills between,
But scorn to notice my white lateen.
I stow the sail, unship the mast :
I wooed you long but my wooing's past ;
My paddle will lull you into rest.
O! drowsy wind of the drowsy west,
Sleep, sleep,
By your mountain steep,
Or down where the prairie grasses sweep!
Now fold in slumber your laggard wings,
For soft is the song my paddle sings.
August is laughing across the sky,
Laughing while paddle, canoe and I,
Drift, drift,
Where the hills uplift
On either side of the current swift.
The river rolls in its rocky bed ;
My paddle is plying its way ahead ;
Dip, dip,
While the water flip
In foam as over their breast we slip.
And oh, the river runs swifter now ;
The eddies circle about my bow.
Swirl, swirl!
How the ripples curl
In many a dangerous pool awhirl!
And forward far the rapids roar,
Fretting their margin for evermore.
Dash, dash,
With a mighty crash,
They seethe, and boil, and bound, and splash.
Be strong, O paddle! be brave, canoe!
The reckless waves you must plunge into.
Reel, reel.
On your trembling keel,
But never a fear my craft will feel.
We've raced the rapid, we're far ahead!
The river slips through its silent bed.
Sway, sway,
As the bubbles spray
And fall in tinkling tunes away.
And up on the hills against the sky,
A fir tree rocking its lullaby,
Swings, swings,
Its emerald wings,
Swelling the song that my paddle sings.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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Related quotes
Whatever Happened To Pong?
My brother and me used to play it
Down at the bar
Taking money from guys
More used to the playing of cards
Paddle the paddle to the side to the side
To the side to the side to the paddle the paddle
Paddle the paddle the side to the side
Pong
Ball in the machine
Now virtually everyones singing
A popular song
But I still believe in
In the excellent joy of the pong
To the side to the side to the paddle the paddle
To the paddle the paddle the side to the side
To the side to the side to the paddle the paddle
Pong
Ball in the machine
Now if they take it h.g. wells
Well, Ill be on the first flight
To a time before the kong
Whatever happended to pong?
Paddle the paddle to the side to the side
To the side to the side to the paddle the paddle
Paddle the paddle the side to the side
Pong
Ball in the machine
song performed by by Frank Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paddle me in the rough sea's
whew...w...whew....w...whew....w...so strong, wave beneath
in the high sea, take in the ocean floor, dive all the wind that
brings me near to the bottom vail, and show me the ocean rock
saddle in the sand it fall
blow... s..s..blow...s..s...blow..s..s..that never ends the wave
that rough me inn, in my boat makes it pain, from the distance
there i see again, will and determination give me hope in a
land i wish to stand
roll on so fast, days and night, is counted in vast land, i can see
where my boat paddling in the deep blue sea, and everything is
done when my strength is gone, all i need now is go beyond my
fear that holds me to be there
paddle my wish near to place i quest, in the rough sea's i passed
i leave my past... for the future i stand... paddle me so fast......
that i can take it last......
poem by Antonio Liao
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Re-voyage
What of the days when we two dreamed together?
Days marvellously fair,
As lightsome as a skyward floating feather
Sailing on summer air--
Summer, summer, that came drifting through
Fate's hand to me, to you.
What of the days, my dear? I sometimes wonder
If you too wish this sky
Could be the blue we sailed so softly under,
In that sun-kissed July;
Sailed in the warm and yellow afternoon,
With hearts in touch and tune.
Have you no longing to re-live the dreaming,
Adrift in my canoe?
To watch my paddle blade all wet and gleaming
Cleaving the waters through?
To lie wind-blown and wave-caressed, until
Your restless pulse grows still?
Do you not long to listen to the purling
Of foam athwart the keel?
To hear the nearing rapids softly swirling
Among their stones, to feel
The boat's unsteady tremor as it braves
The wild and snarling waves?
What need of question, what of your replying?
Oh! well I know that you
Would toss the world away to be but lying
Again in my canoe,
In listless indolence entranced and lost,
Wave-rocked, and passion tossed.
Ah me! my paddle failed me in the steering
Across love's shoreless seas;
All reckless, I had ne'er a thought of fearing
Such dreary days as these,
When through the self-same rapids we dash by,
My lone canoe and I.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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Full Sail
Full sail full sail
Steady as you go
The wind will blow
Set sail at frisco bay
In a fog cold and gray
Clear sailing, day after day
Full sail full sail
Now the air is still
We lay adrift
Come upon a sea of trouble
Till the winds of change shift
My course is set
Theres no turning back
But theres no goin anywhere yet
Full sail full sail
Waiting for the wind to blow
The wind will blow
Does the silence of the sea
Sound warning of a storm ahead
Whispers of the breeze
Stir and disappear
To soft to hear
Whats in store for me
Adventure on the high seas
Put the childhood dream to the test
Find the measure of the man
Follow the sun heading west
Full sail
Steady as you go
Steady as you go
Full sail
Waiting for the wind to blow
The wind will blow
Hey full sail
Mmmm mmmmm
Hey full sail
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Is The Moon And I Have This Boat And A Paddle
there is this full moon tonight
and i have this sailboat and this paddle
the river is still and the night is silent
on the glassy water this boat slides
and this paddle moves me slowly
on the other side where you are there
scented by the sampaguitas and
for me patiently waiting..............
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A paddle here, a paddle there -- the canoe stays still.
Sierra Leonean proverbs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wave-won
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 themselves 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.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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Paddle together, bail, paddle; paddle, bail; paddle towards the land.
On A Wooden Sailboat
now we shall try riding on a wooden sailboat
to cross this river
it will just be the two of us
with me paddling
and you simply sitting there
the river is still
as my paddle creates the ripples
the sky is reddish
this afternoon and soon it will be dark
you will light our way
as i paddle towards the other end
where they are all waiting
we do not talk much now
we love this silence that wraps us
this silence in another place
this newness
that blooms again
i look at you with anticipation
tonight the room shall only be lighted
with an oil lamp
we shall hear the crickets
and the frogs near the pond
and some birds with strange sounds
some love calls
the mating season has just begun
we have no time to watch
what the other creatures of this far place are doing
we have ourselves now
i will blow the lamp's flickers out
goodnight
we are starting all over again
dreaming
as you take me in your arms
i will remember some quivers
of long time ago
as though i do not know what to do
this is magical
love still exists so well in this darkness faraway from everyone
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You don't paddle against the current, you paddle with it. And if you get good at it, you throw away the oars.
quote by Kris Kristofferson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paddle Your Boat
Paddle, paddle, paddle your boat!
But gently across the stream of love;
For there is something sweet inside you for your lover,
And this boat of love will lead you there.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Without A Paddle
Im lost without A paddle on this river of life/
Where it will lead me no one knows/
but one thing is undeniable as i get older my outlook and intelect on life steadily grows/
Ill never be fake never pose/
this river is long and very rough/
But on it i will stay till my bodies had enough/
or till the day im tken away in those cold metal cuffs/
But if thers one thing i know/
IM WITHOUT A PADDLE WHILE THE RIVER CONINUES TO FLOW
THIS IS THE SECOND POEM I EVER WROTE TELL ME IF \YOU LIKE
poem by Jason Decker
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In the shadows
I am sailing to the leeward,
Where the current runs to seaward
Soft and slow,
Where the sleeping river grasses
Brush my paddle as it passes
To and fro.
On the shore the heat is shaking
All the golden sands awaking
In the cove;
And the quaint sand-piper, winging
O'er the shallows, ceases singing
When I move.
On the water's idle pillow
Sleeps the overhanging willow,
Green and cool;
Where the rushes lift their burnished
Oval heads from out the tarnished
Emerald pool.
Where the very silence slumbers,
Water lilies grow in numbers,
Pure and pale;
All the morning they have rested,
Amber crowned, and pearly crested,
Fair and frail.
Here, impossible romances,
Indefinable sweet fancies,
Cluster round;
But they do not mar the sweetness
Of this still September fleetness
With a sound.
I can scarce discern the meeting
Of the shore and stream retreating,
So remote;
For the laggard river, dozing,
Only wakes from its reposing
Where I float.
Where the river mists are rising,
All the foliage baptizing
With their spray;
There the sun gleams far and faintly,
With a shadow soft and saintly,
In its ray.
And the perfume of some burning
Far-off brushwood, ever turning
To exhale
All its smoky fragrance dying,
In the arms of evening lying,
Where I sail.
My canoe is growing lazy,
In the atmosphere so hazy,
While I dream;
Half in slumber I am guiding,
Eastward indistinctly gliding
Down the stream.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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Inside This Boat...
paddle your way
take the boat
do not mind the
waves of this sea
focus on the
coconut island
where the women
are dancing
where the men
are drinking wine
let your hands
be strong
your mind as sharp
as your spear
let your patience
be like the sun
let yourself be open
like an edgeless
horizon
paddle your way
into the waters of fate
out there
after this darkness
the kindness of light
and the opulence of
air
wait for you...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Seed of a Dandelion
My life is like a seed of a dandelion
It flies wherever the wind blows
Looking for the salvation
The land where I can land on
I will follow wherever the wind blows
I will fly if there are tomorrows
I will land to my bed of nest
The place where I go to rest
But if the wind drops me in the river
The river of pains and tears
I will force myself along the current
To find a land in the orient
If the wind will blow me again
The wind will blow me to the end
If I will go and die in this ride
I hope all the pain will subside
If the wind will dropp me in the land
The humus land where I can stand
I will go to sleep in peace
And will wait for morning kisses
_ Dustin S. Catingub
poem by Dustin Catingub
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Dog Paddle
I'm down on the water
(I'm down on the water)
I don't know so I don't bother.
(I don't know so I don't bother)
Looking out the window of my dad's old Chevy.
(Lookin' out the window of my dad's old Chevy.)
Eats a lot of gas cause it's that more heavy.
(Eats a lot of gas cause it's that more heavy.)
I'm down on the county line and,
(We're all down on the county line.)
We're all screamin' Carolina.
(We're all screamin' Carolina.)
I'm down on the water.
(I'm down on the water)
We don't like what we just saw but...
(We don't like what we just saw but...)
I can't swim so I dog paddle.
(I can't swim so I dog paddle.)
I can't swim so I dog paddle.
I eat? (?) inside it feels like murder.
I can't swim so I dog paddle.
I can't swim so I DOG PADDLE.
I'm down on the water.
(I'm down on the water)
I don't know so I don't bother.
(We don't got no meat to swallow.)
Lookin' out the window of my dad's old Chevy.
(I can't swim so I dog paddle.)
Eats a lot of gas cause it's that more heavy.
(...(?)... inside it feels like murder)
I'm down on the county line and.
We're all singin Carolina.
(I can't swim so I dog paddle [repeated])
We're down on the county line again.
We're all screaming Caroline again.
What you say and what you want again.
You can't get it cuz you don't get it. No.
(i'm down on the water..)
song performed by by Modest Mouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Erie waters
A dash of yellow sand,
Wind-scattered and sun-tanned;
Some waves that curl and cream along the margin of the strand;
And, creeping close to these
Long shores that lounge at ease,
Old Erie rocks and ripples to a fresh sou'-western breeze.
A sky of blue and grey;
Some stormy clouds that play
At scurrying up with ragged edge, then laughing blow away,
Just leaving in their trail
Some snatches of a gale;
To whistling summer winds we lift a single daring sail.
O! wind so sweet and swift,
O! danger-freighted gift
Bestowed on Erie with her waves that foam and fall and lift,
We laugh in your wild face,
And break into a race
With flying clouds and tossing gulls that weave and interlace.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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The Lake of the Dismal Swamp
'THEY made her a grave too cold and damp
For a soul so warm and true;
And she's gone to the Lake of the Dismal Swamp,
Where all night long, by a firefly lamp,
She paddles her white canoe.
And her firefly lamp I soon shall see,
And her paddle I soon shall hear;
Long and moving our life shall be
And I'll hide the maid in a cypress tree,
When the footstep of death is near.'
Away to the Dismal Swamp he speeds, -
His path was rugged and sore,
Through tangled juniper, beds of reeds,
Through many a fen where the serpent feeds,
And man never trod before.
And when on the earth he sank to sleep,
If slumber his eyelids knew,
He lay where the deadly vine doth weep
Its venemous tear, and nightly steep
The flesh with blistering dew!
And near him the she-wolf stirr'd the brake,
And the copper-snake breathed in his ear,
Till he starting cried, from his dream awake,
'Oh when shall I see the dusky Lake,
And the white canoe of my dear?'
He saw the Lake, and a meteor bright
Quick over its surface play'd, -
'Welcome,' he said, 'my dear one's light!'
And the dim shore echo'd for many a night
The name of the death-cold maid.
Till he hollow'd a boat of the birchen bark,
Which carried him off from the shore;
Far, far he follow'd the meteor spark,
The wind was high and the clouds were dark,
And the boat return'd no more.
But oft, from the Indian hunter's camp,
This lover and maid so true
Are seen at the hour of midnight damp
To cross the Lake by a firefly lamp,
And paddle their white canoe!
poem by Thomas Moore
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Sail Boat On The River
at night we go boating
along the shallow part of the
Dicayo River
when the moon is full and when
the winds are gentle
i paddle our way to the place
where she lives
the river gives a silvery shimmer
on the silent banks of the river
and then i begin to hear her hum
our favorite love song.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sweet And Low
Sweet and low, sweet and low,
Wind of the western sea,
Low, low, breathe and blow,
Wind of the western sea!
Over the rolling waters go,
Come from the dying moon, and blow,
Blow him again to me;
While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.
Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,
Father will come to thee soon;
Rest, rest, on mother's breast,
Father will come to thee soon;
Father will come to his babe in the best,
Silver sails all out of the west,
Under the silver moon:
Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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