"One summer evening (led by her) I found
A little boat tied to a willow tree
Within a rocky cave, its usual home.
Straight I unloosed her chain, and stepping in 360
Pushed from the shore. It was an act of stealth
And troubled pleasure, nor without the voice
Of mountain-echoes did my boat move on;
Leaving behind her still, on either side,
Small circles glittering idly in the moon,
Until they melted all into one track
Of sparkling light. "
A little boat tied to a willow tree
Within a rocky cave, its usual home.
Straight I unloosed her chain, and stepping in 360
Pushed from the shore. It was an act of stealth
And troubled pleasure, nor without the voice
Of mountain-echoes did my boat move on;
Leaving behind her still, on either side,
Small circles glittering idly in the moon,
Until they melted all into one track
Of sparkling light. "
This pic makes me nostalgic. I am invariably reminded of the famous Wordsworth creativity; The stolen Boat. Its takes me back to those early childhood days when i would be playing by the only tributary flowing through the 'not so interesting' and aloof part of my village. Often have i tried to steal the worldly substances worth millions to me but hardly of any use to the people who owned it. A wooden plank happened to be the first of those things then which i supposedly thought of using to skillfully conquer the coasts of the stream of water, but failed several times. And the failure still lingers in the sub conscious state of my mind and brings back those fragments of memories flashing in front of me at the site of this pic. I miss those innocent days.
