How the far-off hills were gilded
With the light that dream allows,
As we built our hopes beyond them,
Bringing home the cows!
How our eyes were bright with visions,
What a meaning wreathed our brows,
As we watched the cranes, and lingered,
Bringing home the cows!
Past the years, and through the distance,
Throbs the memory of our vows,
Oh that we again were children
Bringing home the cows!
THE KEEPERS OF THE PASS
[When the Iroquois were moving in overwhelming force to obliterate the infant town of Montreal, Adam Daulac and a small band of comrades, binding themselves by oath not to return alive, went forth to meet the enemy in a distant pass between the Ottawa river and the hills. There they died to a man, but not till they had slain so many of the savages that the invading force was shattered and compelled to withdraw.]
Now heap the branchy barriers up.
No more for us shall burn
The pine-logs on the happy hearth,
For we shall not return.
We’ve come to our last camping-ground.
Set axe to fir and tamarack.
The foe is here, the end is near,
And we shall not turn back.
In vain for us the town shall wait,
The home-dear faces yearn,
The watchers on the steeple watch,—
For we shall not return.
For them we’re come to these hard straits,
To save from flame and wrack
The little city built far off;
And we shall not turn back.
Now beat the yelling butchers down.
Let musket blaze, and axe-edge burn.
Set hand to hand, lay brand to brand,
But we shall not return.