Kissed by a thousand red-lipped flowers,
Gemmed by a thousand emerald bowers.
A thousand birds their praises wake,
By rocky glade and plumy brake.
A thousand cedars' fragrant shade
Falls where the Indians' children played,
And Fancy's dream my heart beguiles
While singing of thee, Thousand Isles.
"There St. Lawrence gentlest flows,
There the south wind softest blows.