In lone Canadian woods I raise my song,
Where lingering suns, the summer days prolong,
And rugged oaks, their lengthening shadows fling,
Athwart the sunshine of the silent spring,
While blue Ontario, sparkling through the trees,                              5
With grateful breezes fans the hour of ease.

Let others far for foreign grandeurs roam,
Dearer to me the loveliness of home:
Our ocean-lakes that spread to regions strange,
Where beavers dam, and herding bisons range,                              10
Our boundless woods where rapid rivers sweep,
And cloudy Cataracts in thunder leap,
Our hills and vales with verdure rich and rare,
’Neath azure skies that breathe immortal air,
Our bushy banks with birds and berries gay,                                  15
Our gentle streams that wind themselves away
Through flowery meads and fields of golden corn,
Where Plenty fills brimful her copious horn,
And cheerful toils and rural sports endear
Each varied season of the circling year.                                          20
But glorious Maro! unto thee belong
The might and majesty of epic song,
And thine with power and grandeur to rehearse
In all the pomp of pan-harmonic verse,
Gods and their works, and on the Lyre unbar                                25
The mighty symphonies of man and war.
Thee, Chief of song! Let circling halos blaze
Around thy head and crown immortal bays,
For me a wreath of modest cedar, still,
May haply bloom on some Canadian hill.                                      30
Then come my woodland Muse and fire my tongue,
And let my lips the moving strain prolong,
Till warm with life and radiant from above,
My lay be worthy of my country’s love!