Thy hair is finer than the floss
That tufts the ears of corn;
Its tresses have a silken gloss,
A glory like the morn;
I prize the rich, luxuriant mass,
And each endearing curl
A special grace and beauty has,
My own Canadian girl.
Thy brow is like the silver moon
That sails in summer skies,
The mirror of a mind immune
From care, serene and wise,
Thy nose is sculptured ivory;
Thine ears are lobes of pearl;
Thy lips are corals from the sea,
My own Canadian girl.
Thine eyes are limpid pools of light,
The windows of thy soul;
The stars are not so clear and bright
That shine around the pole.
The crimson banners of thy cheeks
To sun and wind unfurl;
Thy tongue makes music when it speaks,
My own Canadian girl.
God keep thee fair and bright and good
As in thy morning hour,
And make thy gracious womanhood
A still unfolding flow'r.
And stay thy thoughts from trifles vain,
Thy feet from folly's whirl,
And guard thy life from every stain,
My own Canadian girl!
THE ST. LAWRENCE.
Though like Ulysses, fam'd of old,
I travell'd, or the wandering Jew,
No nobler sight could I behold
Than one which daily meets my view,
This mighty stream, my country's pride,
St. Lawrence' broad, majestic tide.
By Babylonia's waters, 'mong
Unwonted scenes, disconsolate,
Their harps upon the willows hung,
The Jewish exiles weeping sate,
Recall'd the river of their land,
And yearn'd to tread its winding strand.
When stern Elisha bade him lave
Seven times in Jordan and be clean,
His Syrian upland's flashing wave
Seem'd better to the Damascene.
"Albana, Pharpar far excel,"
He said, "the streams of Israel."
In India Ganges was rever'd,
In Egypt worshipp'd was the Nile,
To Romans Tiber was endear'd
From Apennine to Sacred Isle;
And Rhine and Danube, Thames and Rhone
A people's votive love have known.