| |
(Excerpt)
I HAVE laid my cheek to Nature’s, placed my puny hand in hers, | |
| Felt a kindred spirit warming all the life-blood of my face, | |
| Moved amid the very foremost of her truest worshippers, | |
| Studying each curve of beauty, marking every minute grace; | |
| Loved not less the mountain cedar than the flowers at its feet, | 5 |
| Looking skyward from the valley, open-lipped as if in prayer, | |
| Felt a pleasure in the brooklet singing of its wild retreat, | |
| But I knelt before the splendor of the thunderous Chaudière. | |
| |
| All my manhood waked within me, every nerve had tenfold force, | |
| And my soul stood up rejoicing, looking on with cheerful eyes, | 10 |
| Watching the resistless waters speeding on their downward course, | |
| Titan strength and queenly beauty diademed with rainbow dyes. | |
| Eye and ear, with spirit quickened, mingled with the lovely strife, | |
| Saw the living Genius shrined within her sanctuary fair, | |
| Heard her voice of sweetness singing, peered into her hidden life, | 15 |
| And discerned the tuneful secret of the jubilant Chaudière. * * * * * | |
| Still I heard the mellow sweetness of her voice at intervals, | |
| Mingling with the fall of waters, rising with the snowy spray, | |
| Ringing through the sportive current like the joy of waterfalls, | |
| Sending up their hearty vespers at the calmy close of day. | 20 |
| Loath to leave the scene of beauty, lover-like I stayed, and stayed, | |
| Folding to my eager bosom memories beyond compare; | |
| Deeper, stronger, more enduring than my dreams of wood and glade, | |
| Were the eloquent appeals of the magnificent Chaudière. | |
| |
| E’en the solid bridge is trembling, whence I look my last farewell, | 25 |
| Dizzy with the roar and trampling of the mighty herd of waves, | |
| Speeding past the rocky Island, steadfast as a sentinel, | |
| Towards the loveliest bay that ever mirrored the Algonquin Braves. | |
| Soul of Beauty! Genius! Spirit! Priestess of the lovely strife! | |
| In my heart thy words are shrined, as in a sanctuary fair; | 30 |
| Echoes of thy voice of sweetness, rousing all my better life, | |
| Ever haunt my wildest visions of the jubilant Chaudière. | |
| |
