THE RIVER

LEAR, and cool, clear and cool,
laughing shallow, and

CBy

pool;

Cool and clear, cool and clear,

dreaming

By shining shingle, and foaming weir; Under the crag where the ouzel sings,

And the ivied wall where the church-bell rings, Undefiled for the undefiled;

Play by me, bathe in me, mother and child.

Dank and foul, dank and foul,

By the smoky town in its murky cowl;
Foul and dank, foul and dank,

By wharf and sewer and slimy bank;
Darker and darker the further I go,
Baser and baser the richer I grow;

Who dare sport with the sin defiled? Shrink from me, turn from me, mother and child.

Strong and free, strong and free;
The floodgates are open, away to the sea.
Free and strong, free and strong,
Cleansing my streams as I hurry along
To the golden sands, and the leaping bar,
And the taintless tide that awaits me afar,
As I lose myself in the infinite main,

Like a soul that has sinned and is pardoned again.

Undefiled for the undefiled;

Play by me, bathe in me, mother and child.

Charles Kingsley

THUS THE MAYNE GLIDETH

HUS the Mayne glideth
Where my love abideth.

Sleep's no softer: it proceeds

On through lawns, on through meads,
On and on, whate'er befall,
Meandering and musical,
Though the niggard pasturage
Bears not on its shaven ledge
Aught but weeds and waving grasses
To view the river as it passes,
Save here and there a scanty patch
Of primroses too faint to catch
A weary bee. And scarce it pushes
Its gentle way through strangling rushes
Where the glossy kingfisher

Flutters when noon-heats are near,
Glad the shelving banks to shun,
Red and steaming in the sun,

Where the shrew-mouse with pale throat
Burrows, and the speckled stoat;

Where the quick sandpipers flit

In and out the marl and grit

That seems to breed them, brown as they :

Naught disturbs its quiet way,

Save some lazy stork that springs,

Trailing it with legs and wings,
Whom the shy fox from the hill
Rouses, creep he ne'er so still.

Robert Browning

LITTLE LAC GRENIER

EETLE Lac Grenier, she's all alone,
Right on de mountain top,

But cloud sweepin' by, will fin' tam to stop
No matter how quickly he want to go,
So he'll kiss leetle Grenier down below.

Leetle Lac Grenier, she's all alone,
Up on de mountain high

But she never feel lonesome, 'cos for w'y?
So soon as de winter was gone away
De bird come an' sing to her ev'ry day.

Leetle Lac Grenier, she's all alone,
Back on de mountain dere,

But de pine tree an' spruce stan' ev'rywhere
Along by de shore, an' mak' her warm

For dey kip off de win' an' de winter storm.

Leetle Lac Grenier, she's all alone,

No broder, no sister near,

But de swallow will fly, an' de beeg moose deer

An' caribou too, will go long way

To drink de sweet water of Lac Grenier.

Leetle Lac Grenier, I see you now,

Onder de roof of spring,

Ma canoe's afloat, an' de robin sing,

De lily's beginnin' her summer dress,

An' trout's wakin' up from hees long long res'.

Leetle Lac Grenier, I'm happy now,

Out on de ole canoe,

For I'm all alone, ma chere, wit' you,

An' if only a nice light rod I had
I'd try dat fish near de lily pad!

Leetle Lac Grenier, O! let me go,
Don't spik no more,

For your voice is strong lak de rapid's roar,
An' you know youse'f I'm too far away,
For visit you now - Leetle Lac Grenier!

William Henry Drummond

F

CANADIAN BOAT SONG

AINTLY as tolls the evening chime,
Our voices keep tune, and our oars keep
time,

Soon as the woods on shore look dim

We'll sing at St. Anne's our parting hymn. Row, brothers, row! the stream runs fast, The rapids are near, and the daylight's past!

Why should we yet our sail unfurl?
There is not a breath the blue wave to curl.
But when the wind blows off the shore

O, sweetly we'll rest our weary oar!

Blow, breezes, blow! the stream runs fast, The rapids are near, and the daylight's past!

Utawa's tide! this trembling moon
Shall see us float over thy surges soon.
Saint of this green isle, hear our prayers
O, grant us cool heavens and favoring airs!
Blow, breezes, blow! the stream runs fast,
The rapids are near, and the daylight's past!
Thomas Moore

Among the moss with hollow harmony

Dark and profound. Now on the polished stones It danced, like childhood laughing as it went: Then through the plain in tranquil wanderings

crept,

Reflecting every herb and drooping bud
That overhung its quietness.-“O stream!
Whose source is inaccessibly profound,
Whither do thy mysterious waters tend?"

He must descend. With rapid steps he went
Beneath the shade of trees, beside the flow
Of the wild babbling rivulet; and now
The forest's solemn canopies were changed
For the uniform and lightsome evening sky.
Gray rocks did peep from the spare moss, and
stemmed

The struggling brook: tall spires of windlestrae
Threw their thin shadows down the rugged slope,
And naught but gnarlèd roots of ancient pines
Branchless and blasted, clenched with grasping

roots

The unwilling soil. A gradual change was here,
Yet ghastly. For, as fast years flow away,
The smooth brow gathers, and the hair grows

thin

And white, and where irradiate dewy eyes