River St. Lawrence, tranquil and fair,
Onward thou speedest, so deep and so wide;
The sunbeams that lurk on thy bosom, see there
A tremulous tumult of love, and of pride—
Of love and of pride for the place of thy birth—
Thy far-away mother—the fresh-water sea—
From whence thou didst spring forth to gladden God’s earth—
The smile of the summer is resting on thee!
River St. Lawrence, tranquil and fair,
Soft in the sunlight, blue as the sky,
Crowned with a beauty tender and rare,
And kissed by each breeze that goes hurrying by;
Warm dost thou look, and fair as a dream,
Speeding so merrily out to the sea,
So mighty, so gentle—O, radiant stream,
The smile of the summer is resting on thee!
My Sweetbriar Maid
I CALLED her sweetbriar when first we walked,
Deep down in the winding lane,
The wild birds sang, and we laughed, and we talked,
Deep down in the winding lane,
We met in the sunshine of one spring day—
Youthful, and happy, and free,
Into her keeping my heart flew straightway,
Pretty and piquant, was she.
Her hazel eyes were so gentle and meek,
But scornful her mouth and chin,
Her brow was severe, but each rosy cheek
Had a roguish dimple in,
And I cried, “I love you my sweetbriar maid!”
And then, oh moment of bliss,
My lips to her cherry-red lips I laid,
And tasted my first love-kiss.
’Twas ever and ever so long ago,
But I remember it yet,
Ah, the springtime of life, its bloom and its glow,
The heart can never forget,
My sweetbriar maid I would give to-day,
The wealth, the fame and the gold
That the years have brought, if they’d roll away,
And leave us the thrill of old.
If only straight backward old time would move—
(Ah, wishing is all in vain),
And leave us with youth, and joy, and love,
Deep down in that winding lane.