'Twere nought to me, the Ocean's far expanse,
If His perfections were not mirrored there,
Hopeless across the unmeasured waste I'd glance,
And clasp my hands in anguish, not in prayer,
Nought, Nature's anthem, ever swelling up
From Nature's myriad voices, for the hymn
Would breathe nor love, nor gratitude, nor hope,
Robbed of the tones that speak to me of Him.
This wondrous universe, how less than nought
Without my God--how desolate and drear!
A mockery Earth with her vain splendors fraught--
A gilded pageant every rolling sphere;
The noonday sun with all his glories crowned,
A sickly flame, would glimmer faint and pale;
And all Earth's melodies, their sweetness drowned,
Be but the utt'rance of a funeral wail!
CANADA
Fair land of peace!--to Britain's rule and throne
Adherent still, yet happier than alone,
And free as happy, and as brave as free,
Proud are thy children--justly proud, of thee!
Thou hast no streams renowned in classic lore,
No vales where fabled heroes moved of yore,
No hills where Poesy enraptured stood,
No mythic fountains, no enchanted wood;
But unadorned, rough, cold, and often stern,
The careless eye to other lands might turn,
And seek, where Nature's bloom is more intense,
Softer delights to charm the eye of sense.
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