And so, from earliest days of spring,
When the first wild flower lifts its head,
Till autumn, when the breezes fling
Broadcast the dying leaves and dead,
Through sensuous summer’s golden hours
I roam the vast, Canadian woods,
Seeking the wild Canadian flowers,
True nymphs of sylvan solitudes.
DEDICATORY BALLAD.
(Written for the unveiling of the Monument erected by the Citizens of Montreal to Paul Chomedy de Maisonneuve.)
The leaf in the forest had budded, of verdure a billowy sea
Over the woodland was flowing, o’erwhelming valley and lea.
The great river, bright in the sunshine, set the isle in a circlet of gold
As it swept to its tryst with the ocean, through realms of riches untold.
The slow-moving oar cleft the water, the balmy May breeze filled the sails,
As the wanderers drew near their haven, afar from the sea and its gales;
From the land of their fathers afar, and anear the keen Iroquois knives.
But the pilgrims, to fear ever strangers, to the Cross had entrusted their lives.
Not sordid were they. Not the treasures of earth they had come to pursue,
Not for honor nor glory. Far nobler the object our sires had in view.
To carry the cross to the savage, braving danger and hardship they came.
They came for the love of the Virgin, a city to found in her name.
Their hearts were o’erflowing with gladness. They sang as they drew near the strand.
Their barks gently touched on the shingle, and Maisonneuve, leaping to land,
Bent his knee, and the others knelt with him, uplifting their voices in prayer
To the Ruler of all, while, prophetic, the priest in his vestments stood there.
The shadows of twilight were falling, the frog loudly piped in the marsh,
The wild duck lurked in the shallows, and anear screamed the kingfisher harsh,
High above swept the night-hawk in circles, in the meadow the fireflies gleamed bright
And were caught, to adorn the rude altar with garlands of pulsating light.
The wanderers calmly sought slumber. The sentinel stood at his ease,
The rivulet gurgled and eddied, and answered the murmuring trees,
The mountain loomed dark in the distance, and the wolf looking down from the height,
In wonder and awe, saw the camp fire that burned on a city’s birth night.