  Fair are fleets of white winged prows Swiftly sailing o’er the sea; Fair are herds of homing cows, Winding slowly o’er the lea; Fair are orchards, when replete With rich blossoms pink and white; Fair are fields of ripening wheat Shining in the morning light; Fair is any mountain sheet Burnishing in colors bright; Fair are all Acadia’s lands; All its streams and wooded lakes, Headlands high and pebbly strands, When the early morning breaks, Fair its scented flowers and trees, And its many landlocked bays, Rippling in the summer breeze; Themes for minstrel muses’ lays— But far fairer than all these Are Acadia’s autumn days. Made from heavenly design By some unseen Artisan; Gift of Architect divine, To Acadia’s Weather man. Fairest season of the year, When boon Nature’s at her height Robed in all her beauty sere, And fair Luna sheds her light With a more bewitching cheer Through the watches of the night. And God’s lowly creatures all, Who the freeman’s burden bore, Having heeded labor’s call Now have plentitude in store, And from every household hearth Nightly offered up the “word”. As a sacrifice of worth To a kind and gracious Lord For the riches of the earth, Filling thus the family board. And a thrill of peaceful joy Permeates the human breast And the starry vaulted sky Seemingly is at its best, For old Sol in all his pride Scorpion doth then adorn, Midway in his yearly ride ’Twixt the Line and Capricorn. In this lovely Autumntide Was Waegwoltic’s wedding morn. decoration of text |
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