The above lyrics are the exact lyrics to Isabella Valancy Crawford's poem "The Camp of Souls", the song is adapted from the poem but doesn't follow the same order, not all verses are included and there are a few changes in the lyrics. Here I correct the lyrics to Aesma daeva's song:
My white canoe, like the silvery air
O'er the River of Death that darkly rolls
When the moons of the world are round and fair
I paddle back from the Camp of Souls
When the wishtonwish in the low swamp grieves
Come the dark plumes of the red singing leaves
Two hundred times have the moons of spring
Rolled over the bright bay's azure breath
Since they decked me with plumes of an eagle's wing
And painted my face with the paint of death
The camp of souls
The camp of souls
And from thy pipe o'er my corpse there broke
The solemn rings of the blue last smoke
Two hundred times have the wintry moons
Wrapped the dead earth in a blanket white
Two hundred times have the wild sky loons
Shrieked in the flush of the golden light
The camp of souls
The camp of souls
They chanted above me the song of grief
As I took my way to the spirit land
For love is the breath of the soul set free
So I walk a river that darkly rolls
That my spirit may whisper soft to thee
Of thine who wait in the Camp of Souls
When the bright day laughs, or the wan night grieves
Come the dark plumes of red singing leaves
The above lyrics are the exact lyrics to Isabella Valancy Crawford's poem "The Camp of Souls", the song is adapted from the poem but doesn't follow the same order, not all verses are included and there are a few changes in the lyrics. Here I correct the lyrics to Aesma daeva's song:
My white canoe, like the silvery air O'er the River of Death that darkly rolls When the moons of the world are round and fair I paddle back from the Camp of Souls When the wishtonwish in the low swamp grieves Come the dark plumes of the red singing leaves
Two hundred times have the moons of spring Rolled over the bright bay's azure breath Since they decked me with plumes of an eagle's wing And painted my face with the paint of death
The camp of souls The camp of souls
And from thy pipe o'er my corpse there broke The solemn rings of the blue last smoke
Two hundred times have the wintry moons Wrapped the dead earth in a blanket white Two hundred times have the wild sky loons Shrieked in the flush of the golden light
The camp of souls The camp of souls
They chanted above me the song of grief As I took my way to the spirit land
For love is the breath of the soul set free So I walk a river that darkly rolls That my spirit may whisper soft to thee Of thine who wait in the Camp of Souls When the bright day laughs, or the wan night grieves Come the dark plumes of red singing leaves