This file is produced from the material at Harlem Shadows: A Digital Edition December 6, 2015 Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommerical 4.0 International This file is generated from a master file containing the text of Claude McKay's 1922 collection of poems and related documents (other appearances of McKay's poems, reviews, and related material). The base text for this file is drawn from the item listed below. Claude McKay New York Harcourt, Brace, and Company 1922 36 On a Primitive Canoe Here, passing lonely down this quiet lane, Before a mud-splashed window long I pause To gaze and gaze, while through my active brain Still thoughts are stirred to wakefulness; because Long, long ago in a dim unknown land, A massive forest-tree, ax-felled, adze-hewn, Was deftly done by cunning mortal hand Into a symbol of the tender moon. Why does it thrill more than the handsome boat That bore me o'er the wild Atlantic ways, And fill me with rare sense of things remote From this harsh life of fretful nights and days? I cannot answer but, whate'er it be, An old wine has intoxicated me.