Then poets will arise and high their lays will soar,
Worthy of the muse of a Burns or a Moore,
A Shakespeare and a Milton, the great and the wise,
Will sing of the glories of our northern skies,
Of its lakes and rivers and its mountains grand,
Of its fertile plains and great prairie land,
A fit theme for song this empire gigantic,
Whose arms stretch from Pacific to Atlantic.
LINES ON VIOLETS.
Once, while digging 'neath the snow,
'Mid Canadian winter, lo!
To our joy and surprise
We saw some violets in full bloom,
Gazing at us with loving eyes,
Thanking us for opening their tomb,
Yet still they seemed so cozy and nice
Enshrined in the crystal ice,
While all else were drooping dead
Gaily they held up their head.
CANADIAN CHARMS.
Here industry is not in vain,
For we have bounteous crops of grain,
And you behold on every field
Of grass and roots abundant yield,
But after all the greatest charm
Is the snug home upon the farm,
And stone walls now keep cattle warm.
DONALD ROSS.
By the side of a moss
Lived young Donald Ross,
Among the heathery hills
And the mountain rills,
In a snug little cot
Content with his lot
He never knew sorrow
With his wife and wee Flora.
But an order went forth
O'er the land of the north,
To burn many a home
So the wild deer might roam,
With grief he then did toss
Every night Donald Ross,
And sad seemed the morrow
For his wife and sma' Flora.
O it was a cruel deed
But nobles do not heed
The sorrows of the poor
Drove on a barren moor,
Where he wove a wreath
Of the blooming heath,
For to crown with glory
The brow of little Flory.