  I. Deep Bay, broad-breasted and brave! Oft rocked in thy swaying arms Beneath the hidden sun, As foam-bell tost on thy wave I drift again 'mid thy charms To sphinx-like Blomidon. Why are thy glories untold? Thy cliffs of purple and red And crystal-veinËd rocks, Thy hasting waters deep-rolled 'Neath skies whose colors are spread With art that all art mocks; Thy faltering ranks of white mist Flanking vast floods and vast ebbs— A mimicry of war,— Oriflammes of dew-sprent list, Banners of gossamer webs, Soft blown as lights of Thor! II. The smooth shining flats all bare To the heavens' nakedest ken, Mirror the hills, like lakes. The drowsy lull of the air Will stir anew to life when The tidal note awakes. From lang'rous south seas that creep, These odors dank issue forth, Odors of sun-steeped brine— It comes! a breeze from a deep, Full-fed from seas of the North, A waft of Vikings' wine! Now beats the pulse of the flood, The throbbings deep of a heart Felt all around the world; Now smites its rhythm with a thud,— With ictus sure of its art That mountains huge has hurled. The unsouled rivers and creeks Have being, have life to the full, Into their mouths rebreathed, As heaves the broad breast that seeks T' embosom each leaning hull, Bare on red banks tide-seethed. The iron gride of the flow Powders the rocks in its path, And bears the dust afar To build their urns, where may grow Sweet grasses and "primrose rathe,"— Fair Grand PrÉ, Tantramar! III. Builder, unbuilder of shores, Thresher of cliffs vapor-stoled, God's masterworkman strong! Yet on thy bosom the oars Of sailor lads ply and fold To sweet refrains of song. And glad in thy twinkling smiles, Awing, like sea-gulls, the ships Are breasting stout the breeze,— Ah me, thy treacherous wiles! Witching fog-wraiths draping rips! Currents of iron seas! IV. O Fundy, deep-breathing sea, Regal in power and rimmed In hollow of His hand, Captive to beauty, yet free, Sleep now, thy Basin is brimmed In fair Acadian land! Haloed with pearl-raying rings The moon, at her utmost poised, Looks on her silver shield; And the tide wakens and swings— Ebbs with a clangor far noised And wheeling wings afield. |
|
