ON my northwest coast in the midst of the night, a fishermen's group <br /> stands watching; <br /> Out on the lake, that expands before them, others are spearing <br /> salmon; <br /> The canoe, a dim shadowy thing, moves across the black water, <br /> Bearing a Torch a-blaze at the prow.<br /><br />Walt Whitman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-torch/
