Fevered sleep racked with rain. Adrift inside the black lagoon; The beasts below, they know my name. The spectral pool remains unchanged. | THE OLD PROVERBIAL RECOVERY

It is dusk on the Lost Lagoon,And we two dreaming the dusk away,Beneath the drift of a twilight grey,Beneath the drowse of an ending day,And the curve of a golden moon.It is dark in the Lost Lagoon,And gone are the depths of haunting blue,The grouping gulls, and the old canoe,The singing firs, and the dusk and–you,And gone is the golden moon.O! lure of the Lost Lagoon,–I dream to-night that my paddle blursThe purple shade where the seaweed stirs,I hear the call of the singing firsIn the hush of the golden moon. Emily Pauline Johnson

Source: Fevered sleep racked with rain. Adrift inside the black lagoon; The beasts below, they know my name. The spectral pool remains unchanged. | THE OLD PROVERBIAL RECOVERY

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