I’ll dream again of fields of grain that stretch from sky to sky,
And the little prairie hamlets where the cars go roaring by,
Wooden hamlets as I saw them—noble cities still to be——
To girdle stately Canada with gems from sea to sea.
* * * * *
I shall hear the roar of waters where the rapids foam and tear;
I shall smell the virgin upland with its balsam-laden air,
And shall dream that I am riding down the winding woody vale,
With the packer and the pack horse on the Athabaska Trail.