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| "Where Go The Boats" 6" x 6" Oil on canvas panel |
Golden is the sand.
It flows along for ever,
With trees on either hand.
Green leaves a-floating,
Castles of the foam,
Boats of mine a-boating -
Where will all come home?
On goes the river
And out past the mill,
Away down the valley,
Away down the hill.
Away down the river,
A hundred miles or more,
Other little children
Shall bring my boats ashore.
Robert Louis Stevenson
A friend and I discovered that we shared similar memories of sailing folded paper boats in creeks, ponds and lakes when we were children. I even sang this poem as a song at a Brownie Scout "flying up" to Girl Scouts ceremony as we released our boats into the Huron River in a suburb of Detroit where I grew up. I felt compelled to honor this memory by folding a boat and floating it on one of our many puddles for this painting.
Thank you my friend for the inspiration.
Carol
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How lovely, Carol. I can almost see the ripples in the water as they bounce the little boat up and down.
ReplyDeleteAnd the evocative poem by Stevenson reminds me of one by Emily Dickinson, along the same lines.
Hers is titled "Adrift! A little boat adrift!"
It goes like this:
"Adrift! A little boat adrift!
And night is coming down!
Will no one guide a little boat
Unto the nearest town?
"So Sailors say -- on yesterday --
Just as the dusk was brown
One little boat gave up its strife
And gurgled down and down.
"So angels say -- on yesterday --
Just as the dawn was red
One little boat -- o'erspent with gales --
Retrimmed its masts -- redecked its sails --
And shot -- exultant on!"
What a wonderful poem!
I love that final line, especially:
"And shot -- exultant on!"
Exultant indeed.