Of hunters for the furry spoils;
Your whitest ermines are but foils
To brighter Catherine Orkney.
That such a flower should ever burst
From climes with rigorous winter curst!—
We bless you, that so kindly nurst
This flower, this Catherine Orkney.
We envy not your proud display
Of lake—wood—vast Niagara;
Your greatest pride we've borne away.