The first harsh word comes tremblingly—
We shame to fling
It forth—Ah me! ’twill wound and sting
What we hold dear.
Ashamed and penitent we cry
“Forgive!” and kiss;
There is a wealth of joy and bliss
In making up.
The next harsh word comes easier,
Till by-and-by,
We think it foolishness to cry
For peace again.
The discord swells in every line,
And soon we grow
So used to it we hardly know
The once sweet air.
We quarrel and make up again
And then some day
We quarrel and forget, straightway,
The making up.
O Radiant Stream
RIVER St. Lawrence, tranquil and fair,
Soft in the sunlight, blue as the sky,
Crowned with a beauty, tender and rare,
And kissed by the breeze that goes hurrying by.
Warm dost thou look, and fair as a dream,
Speeding so merrily out to the sea,
So strong and so gentle—O radiant stream,
The smile of the summer is resting on thee!
River St. Lawrence, tranquil and fair,
Winding thy way for a thousand long miles
Past meadow and homestead, past rocks grim and bare,
With a song for the shore, a kiss for the isles
Lovingly cradled on thy broad breast—
Isles without number, and fair as can be,
O, sweet, shining river—bonniest, best—
The smile of the summer is resting on thee!
River St. Lawrence, tranquil and fair,
Lightly bearing the great ships along—
Boats with their white sails spread out in the air—
The broad rafts of timber, so clumsy and strong—
The slender canoe, as swift as a bird,
The Indian builds with bark from a tree—
Thou bearest them all, unwearied, unstirred—
The smile of the summer is resting on thee!
River St. Lawrence, tranquil and fair,
Pure are thy waters that bask in the light;
Thy ripples of laughter ring sweet on the air—
The rocks bend to listen by day and by night.
The turbulent streams rushing down from the hills
To mingle and race with thee out to the sea,
Steal not from thy azure—O, beauty that thrills,
The smile of the summer is resting on thee!