Upon thy bounding bosom bright!
Could I but see thee once again,
My own, my beautiful Champlain!
The little isles that deck thy breast,
And calmly on thy bottom rest,
How often, in my childish glee,
I’ve sported round them, bright and free!
Could I but see thee once again,
My own, my beautiful Champlain!
How oft I’ve watched the freshening shower