We lie and listen to the hissing waves, Wherein our boat seems sharpening its keel, Which on the seas face all unthankful graves An arrowed scratch as with a tool of steel. John DavidsonIn a Music-Hall and Other Poems. For Lovers. L. 17.
Faintly as tolls the evening chime, Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time, Soon as the woods on shore look dim, Well sing at St. Anns our parting hymn; Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast, The rapids are near and the daylights past! MooreCanadian Boat Song.