| |
| OUT and in the river is winding | |
| The links of its long, red chain | |
| Through belts of dusky pine-land | |
| And gusty leagues of plain. | |
| |
| Only, at times, a smoke-wreath | 5 |
| With the drifting cloud-rack joins,— | |
| The smoke of the hunting-lodges | |
| Of the wild Assiniboins! | |
| |
| Drearily blows the north-wind | |
| From the land of ice and snow; | 10 |
| The eyes that look are weary, | |
| And heavy the hands that row. | |
| |
| And with one foot on the water, | |
| And one upon the shore, | |
| The Angel of Shadow gives warning | 15 |
| That day shall be no more. | |
| |
| Is it the clang of wild-geese? | |
| Is it the Indian’s yell, | |
| That lends to the voice of the north-wind | |
| The tones of a far-off bell? | 20 |
| |
| The voyageur smiles as he listens | |
| To the sound that grows apace; | |
| Well he knows the vesper ringing | |
| Of the bells of St. Boniface. | |
| |
| The bells of the Roman Mission, | 25 |
| That call from their turrets twain, | |
| To the boatman on the river, | |
| To the hunter on the plain! | |
| |
| Even so in our mortal journey | |
| The bitter north-winds blow, | 30 |
| And thus upon life’s Red River | |
| Our hearts, as oarsmen, row. | |
| |
| And when the Angel of Shadow | |
| Rests his feet on wave and shore, | |
| And our eyes grow dim with watching | 35 |
| And our hearts faint at the oar, | |
| |
| Happy is he who heareth | |
| The signal of his release | |
| In the bells of the Holy City, | |
| The chimes of eternal peace! | 40 |
| |
