On a Sunday night, a lake excursion boat comes back to Chicago from the peach farms of Saugatuck, and the speaker turns the moment into a small spectacle. Against the almost comic darkness—“dark as a stack of black cats”—the boat’s hundreds of electric bulbs stand out like red and yellow birds frozen in flight. Strings of light run along the railings and curve from the bow and stern up to the smokestacks. From the pier, the speaker hears the hoarse crash of waves answered by a brass band playing a Polish folk song for the returning passengers. The mood is both gritty and festive: industrial Chicago, working-class joy, and the lake’s darkness all meet in one glowing, noisy homecoming. It feels affectionate and vividly alive.
Picnic Boat — Summary
Sunday night and the park policemen tell each other it is dark as a stack of black cats on Lake Michigan.
A big picnic boat comes home to Chicago from the peach farms of Saugatuck.
Hundreds of electric bulbs break the night's darkness, a flock of red and yellow birds with wings at a standstill.
Running along the deck railings are festoons and leaping in curves are loops of light from prow and stern to the tall smokestacks.
Over the hoarse crunch of waves at my pier comes a hoarse answer in the rhythmic oompa of the brasses playing a Polish folk-song for the home-comers.