We have smelt the curing wheat fields and the scent of new-mown hay;
We have heard the binders clatter through the dusty autumn day;
We have seen the golden stubble gleaming through the misty rain;
We have seen the plow-streaks widen as they turned it down again;
We have heard the threshers humming in the cool September night;
We have seen their dark procession by the straw-piles' eerie light;
We have heard the freight trains groaning, slipping, grinding, on the rail,
And the idle trace chains jingle as they jogged along the trail.
We have felt the cold of winter—cursed by those who know it not—
We have braved the blizzard's vengeance, dared its most deceptive plot;
We have learned that hardy races grow from hardy circumstance,
And we face a dozen dangers to attend a country dance;
Though our means are nothing lavish we have always time for play,
And our social life commences at the closing of the day;
We have time for thought and culture, time for friendliness and friend,
And we catch a broader vision as our aspirations blend.
We have hopes to others foreign, aims they cannot understand,
We, the "heirs of all the ages," we, the first-fruits of the land;
Though we think with fond affection of the shores our fathers knew,
And we honor all our brothers—for a brother's heart is true—
Though we stand with them for progress, peace, and unity, and power,
Though we die with them, if need be, in our nation's darkest hour—
Still the prairies call us, call us, when all other voices fail,
And the call we knew in childhood is the call that must prevail.
(In some circles the term "colonial" is still allowed
to imply inferiority and dependence.)
Only a Colonial!
Only a man of nerve and heart
Who has spurned the ease of the life "at home,"
Only a man who would play his part
In a new breed-birth on a distant loam;
Only a man of sense and worth
Who is not afraid of the ends of earth.
Only a Colonial!
Only a man who has cornered Fate
And matched his strength with the Unattained;
Only the guard at the Outer Gate,
Who holds for you what he has gained,
That your children, seized of a better sense,
May share with him Toil's recompense.
Only a Colonial!
Only a man who has bridged the deep,
And stained the map a British hue,
Who builds an Empire while ye sleep
And deeds the ownership to you.
'Tis the Viking blood which gave you birth
That has driven him to the ends of earth.