| William Wilfred Campbell, comp. The Oxford Book of Canadian Verse. 1913. | | | | On the Trail | | By Helena Coleman (1860–1953) |
| | | OH, there ’s nothing like the prairie | |
| When the wind is in your face, | |
| And a thunderstorm is brewing, | |
| And night comes down apace— | |
| ’Tis then you feel the wonder | 5 |
| And immensity of space! | |
| |
| Far in the gathering darkness | |
| Against the dying day | |
| The ghostly hills are lying, | |
| The hills that stand for ay— | 10 |
| How in the dusk they glimmer | |
| And palpitate away! * * * * * | |
| How vast the world and void! | |
| No living thing in sight, | |
| As to the lonely prairie | 15 |
| Comes down the lonely night, | |
| But in your heart what freedom— | |
| What sense of buoyant flight! | |
| |
| Once more the pulses quicken | |
| With life’s exultant pride, | 20 |
| With hope and high ambition, | |
| As on and on you ride, | |
| Till all the old desires | |
| Come galloping beside! | |
| |
| Oh, there ’s nothing like the prairie | 25 |
| When the wind is in your face, | |
| And the boom of distant thunder | |
| Comes rolling up apace— | |
| ’Tis then you feel the wonder | |
| And immensity of space! | 30 | | | |
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